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JESUS OF NAZARETH; 



OR, 



A TKUE HISTORY 



OF THE 



N CALLED JESUS CHRIST, 



EMBRACING 

LRENTAGE, his youth, his original doctrines 

D WORKS, HIS CAREER AS A PUBLIC TEACHER 
AND PHYSICIAN OF THE PEOPLE, 

ALSO, 

MATURE OF THE GREAT CONSPIRACY AGAINST HIM; 
vVITH ALL THE INCIDENTS OF HIS TRAGICAL 
DEATH, GIVEN ON SPIRITUAL AUTHORITY, 
FROM SPIRITS WHO WERE CONTEM- 
PORARY MORTALS WITH JESUS 
WHILE ON THE EARTH. 



THROUGH 



t 




ALEXANDER SMYTH. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR. 

1864. 



^ 



^ N 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 

ALEXANDER SMYTH, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



3 & 2 6 f~ 





DEDICATED 

TO THE 

CHRISTIAN CLERGY OF ALL DENOMINATIONS. 



Reverend Sirs: 

In compliance with the commands of my Spirit friends, I am im- 
pelled to draw your attention to a subject of deep interest and vast 
importance to the Christian world. For eighteen centuries and more, 
gentlemen of your profession have undertaken to teach and expound 
the doctrines of the Christian faith. Sermons as numerous as the sands 
on the sea shore have been preached, and books have been written, 
enough in bulk to build a city as large as London in England, en- 
deavouring to reconcile the Christian dogmas with truth and reason, 
without accomplishing the. end in view; for the same mysteries and 
subjects of dispute and contention exist now, as in the commencement, 
shocking to every one of common sense who is desirous of knowing 
the truth. The reason of this is obvious. The New Testament, which 
is the text book of Christianity, when judged by the philosophy of the 
present day, is found to be a compilation of misstaterrients, miscon- 
ceptions, perversions, and nearly everything else opposite to that which 
it professes to be. The very character of Jesus, as therein represented, 
is a myth — a being of fabulous and impossible existence, of whom it is 
impossible to conceive in any natural and consistent light. But at 
length, it has pleased the Supreme Ruler of the Universe that the truth 
shall be made known to mankind. The true character, history and 
doctrines of Jesus are now brought to light by spiritual communications 
through me, the truth of which cannot be successfully opposed, when 
all things pertaining to it shall be made known. Therefore I respect- 
fully request you, Reverend Sirs, will suspend your judgments until 
you shall obtain a knowledge of the truth by investigating this book ; 
then, if you do your duty to God and man, you will acknowledge the 
truth, and preach the same to the world — such being the desires and 
commands of the Spirits. 

In the hope and strong belief that your Reverend Order, and the 
world at large, will greatly profit by the perusal of this book, I remain 
your respectful and humble servant, 

ALEXANDER SMYTH. 



PREFACE. 

Under a sense of duty which I owe to mankind, and especially to 
all those of the various Christain denominations, I feel myself impelled 
to issue this extraordinary book to the world. It purports to be The 
True History of Jesus op Nazareth; being the first and only 
work in which is portrayed the true character and works of that much 
esteemed and beloved individual. In it, he is divested of all the 
mythical and mystical surroundings and fabulous origin, as represented 
in all others. He is presented to the mental view of the present age as a 
natural man, whose traits of character were amiability, justice, truth- 
fulness and benevolence ; who finally became a martyr to his love and 
good intentions towards mankind. The numerous incidents and start- 
ling facts pertaining to this History are given on Spiritual authority, 
by a series of clairaudient communications and mental visions through 
the Medium and Author. The grouping of the characters, compiling 
of the incidents, description of the scenery and illustrations, are given 
in the words and style of the Author, who has no other apology to 
make for any imperfections that may be found, than that he has done 
his best to make it comprehensive, important and interesting to all 
classes of readers. Some persons, not being favoured with the new 
light of the age, will probably discredit its Spiritual authority. If so, 
that will not detract from the merits of the work ; for all those who 
shall feel sufficient interest to peruse it, will find that everything therein 
stated is based upon physical and moral facts and probabilities. In 
accordance, then, with the duties and engagements by which I am 
bound, I respectfully submit it to the public. May it be productive of its 
great design, in dispersing from the minds of mankind the dark clouds 
of superstitious errors — such being the wish of the Spirits, and of the 
humble individual who subscribes himself the 

MEDIUM AND AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



DEDICATION, 

PREFACE, ' • • • • • • • 

INTRODUCTION.— The Medium's Spiritual experience, 

CONFESSIONS of Saul of Tarsus, 

EARLY HISTORY OF JESUS, 

VISION I. — Saul declares his mind to Judas, 

VISION II.— John the Baptist at home, 

VISION III.— Home of Lazarus.— Martha and Mary, . 

VISION IV.— Jose" and Mary's declaration in the Garden, 

VISION V. — John baptizes in the Jordan, 

VISION VI.— Saul in his chamber. — The Conspiracy, 

VISION VII.— Judas and Cosbi, . 

VISION VIII.— Saul and the Sybil, 

VISION IX.— Jesus in his Grotto. — The dream, . 

VISION X.— Jesus at Nazareth, .... 

VISION XI. — Bethsaida, the home of Simon or Peter, . 

VISION XII. — Plain of Genesareth. — Jesus addresses the mul- 
titude, ....... 

VISION XIII.— Saul and Judas.— The working of the plot, 

VISION XIV. — Feast of the Passover. — Jesus addresses the 
people, ....... 

VISION XV.— Caiaphas, Gamaliel and Saul, . 

VISION XVI.— Pool of Bethesda.— Jesus teaches and heals 
the afflicted, ...... 

VISION XVII.— The Beautiful Gate.— Jesus discourses on the 
Sabbath, ....... 

VISION XVIII.— Jesus and the Samaritan woman.— Inter- 
view with John, ...... 

COMMUNICATION XIX.— The Spirit Saul gives a general 
view of the travels of Jesus, his followers, his 
works, character and public estimation, 

VISION XX.— The resuscitation of Lazarus, . 

(5 



Page. 
3 

4 
7 

19 

26 

37 

46 

62 

72 

84 

92 
102 
110 
117 
125 
135 

147 
159 

166 
174 

183 

1S7 

193 



200 
209 



vi contents- 

page. 

VISION XXI. — Jesus discourses with the Doctor of Law on 

Marriage, . . . . . • • 213 

VISION XXII.— Jesus discourses with Nicodemus, . . 217 

VISION XXIII. — Jesus defends the woman charged with 

adultery, ....... 222 

VISION XXIV.— Jesus portrays the Scribes and Pharisees, 228 

VISION XXV.— Scene at the Palace of the Sanhedrim, . 232 

VISION XXVI.— The assembling of Jesus and his followers, 238 
VISION XXVIL— The entrance of Jesus and his followers" 

into Jerusalem, ...... 251 

VISION XXVIII.— The Banquet and betrayal of Jesus, . 262 
VISION XXIX.— Jesus and Mary in the Garden of Gethse- 

mane, ....... 270 

VISION XXX.— Chamber of Gezith.— Jesus accused, . 279 

VISION XXXI.— Jesus before Pilate and Herod, . . 286 
VISION XXXII.— Procession to Golgotha, ... 295 
VISION XXXIII.— The lost Bracelet found, . . . 299 
VISION XXXIV.— Herod and the Sybil.— Astounding reve- 
lations, ....... 303 

VISION XXXV.— Saul and Judas.— The reward of the Traitor, 311 
COMMUNICATION XXXVI.— The last communication of the 

Spirit Saul to the Medium, . . . 317 



INTRODUCTION. 



In bringing this Book before the Public, I feel it to be my duty to give 
some explanation of certain things, which, forming a concatenation of 
cause and effect, gave origin to it. The matters I allude to are in rela- 
tion to my own humble self, which, however disagreeable to me, I am 
constrained to do in some respects. 

I am a man of humble circumstances, and have always been so ;— 
one who has always labored for his daily bread. My education has not 
been received from academy or college ; nor have I had the assistance 
of a tutor excepting in my childhood, when I was taught to read the 
New Testament with a Sunday-school proficiency, so that as far as I 
have any learning, I am indebted for it to my own perseverance; — 
though lately, I find that the impulses of my nature have been modified 
and guarded by some spiritual friends, of whose influence over me I 
knew nothing at the time. 

I was of a nervous, sanguine temperament, — ardent, hopeful and 
of blissful imagination. I left my native home when a youth with a 
firm resolution to see and enjoy the world ; thanks to the care of my 
kind mother, my morals were good ; I had little to gain in that respect, 
but a great deal to lose. I wandered from place to place, seeking plea- 
sures and information during many years. I partook of all things that 
the world presented, even to some of its vices, and in the course of my 
wanderings and adventures, I received a blight to my affections ; I then 
became unhappy for a time, when, as a counteractor to sorrow, I con- 
tracted an evil habit. This state of things continued for a time as I 
continued to wander from place to place, feeling myself an unhappy 
creature whose affections and blissful hopes were nipped in the bud ; — 
whose noble aspirations were checked, — whose desire of doing what 
seemed to me right, was blasted, and whose self respect was almost 
gone. 

About the time that I was in my most distressed condition, I was 
aroused from my dispair, torpor and lack of energy, by feeling within 
me some extraordinary experiences, so astonishing and astounding to 
me, that it absorbed the whole powers of my mind by day and night ; 
my sorrows were forgotten — my evil habit was neglected ;— then, liko 
Sampson of old, I began to shake myself to see where my strength lay, 
and I said to myself, what is it ? What is going to happen ? I reasoned 
with myself, calling up my scanty amount of philosophy, but could not 
account for the phenomena. I went to several doctors, and revealed to 
them what I had experienced, from whom I received no satisfactory 
information ; but they hinted that my experiences were nothing more 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

than imaginings or hallucinations, and afterwards, I heard it whispered 
abotit that I was crazy. After this I left the neighborhood, resolving to 
keep the subject hereafter locked up within myself, and endeavour, by 
studying the philosophy of nature, to find if possible, the true cause of 
the phenomena within me. With this resolution, I conformed ; passing 
my days in hard work, and at leasure times in study ; in the mean time, 
the phenomena occurring to me frequently, — how often I cannot say, 
I overcame my evil habit. 

My life was now much more agreeable. I was industrious, studious 
and temperate ; yet my old sorrow would now and then oppress me. 
After a time, the phenomena I have alluded to, entirely left me ; but 
others not less wonderful and more agreeable, succeeded them, and con- 
tinued with me for a great length of time. The latter were a source of 
great gratification to me ; yet I was ever anxious to discover the cause, 
however, all my researches were in vain. I wished to impart to my 
neighbours these mysterious occurrences ; but I was afraid to do so from 
fear of the results, so I kept them to myself until the year '43, when I 
married ; then the phenomena ceased altogether and did not occur until 
the year '58, when I was again visited by them in the usual manner. 
Subsequently the subject of Spiritualism attracted my notice, when I 
proceeded to investigate its merits. After a few months investigation 
of the subject, an idea occurred to me that I would inquire of Alexander 
J. Davis, the Clairvoyant, concerning the mysterious occurrences per- 
taining to me. Accordingly I wrote him a letter, giving a description 
of my experiences, which was as follows : — 

Philadelphia, April 10th, 1860. 
Mr. Davis, Dear Sir; 

Knowing you to be a man of learning, especially in spiritual and 
psycological subjects, I take the liberty to address you on a matter of 
great importance, to me at least, and I hope when you shall have read 
this letter, that you will give me your serious opinion upon it. 

For several years I have been the subject of a series of a most extra- 
ordinary and mysterious internal experiences or developements : I can- 
not say sensations, for I am well aware that what I have undergone did 
not come through the medium of my five senses. I am not an illiterate 
man ; yet with all my philosophy I am unable to account for them. I 
have read many medical works, but do not find a case recorded similar 
to mine. I have conversed with many medical men ; but could gain no 
other opinion from them, than that it was " Hallucination." I have also 
conversed with non-professional persons : the result was, they considered 
mo to be crazy ! Since then, I have kept the subject locked up within 
myself, as I am not desirous of being considered either foolish or crazy. 
I will now relate the particulars to you, that you may judge : 

About twenty years ago, when I was thirty years of age, I began to 
notice certain extraordinary occurrences within my person. Sometimes 
1 saw or inwardly perceived, the main branches of my nervous system 
burst forth suddenly into beautiful lights of blue and yellow; — some- 
limes down my sides — sometimes along my arms, — very often on one 
eide of my face or across my brows. These appearances were as quick 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

as a flash of lightning ; during which, I perceived the interior of the 
tubes through which the light passed. 

Frequently when in my bed and about falling to sleep, a noise, sud- 
den and powerful would be heard in my head like the report of a pistol, 
or the twanging of a large wire : then a flash of light would pass over 
the exterior part of the brain, when I could distinctly see the two hemi- 
spheres thereof. At times, an explosion would take place at the back 
part of my head; then I could perceive the medula oblongata, and the 
ramifications of the cerebellum faintly illuminated. But the most beau- 
tiful and extraordinary of all the instances I experienced but once, it 
was as follows : One day I was lying on my back dozing, when my 
slumbers were interrupted by, as I thought a large fly, which seemed 
to descend and buzz just between my eyes. Several times I was thus 
disturbed, when at last I arose, determined to destroy the intruder if I 
could catch it. I searched about, but could find nothing of the kind. 
Then, thinking that something else might be the cause, I returned to 
my previous position, resolving to keep on the watch. As thus I lay 
for some minutes, without moving a muscle, my eyelids slightly open- 
ing, I perceived two yellow luminous specks ; one at the inner, and the 
other at the outer angle of the eye, just beneath the edge of the eyelid. 
These specks were moving toward each other; — the one at the outer 
angle moving the faster. At length they came into contact, when an ex- 
plosion like the firing of a pistol took place, passing through my brain ; 
causing every particle of the substance to tremble ; — then a beautiful 
yellow and blue light passed through my eyeball, along the optical tube 
up to the brain, where I lost it. During its passage, I saw distinctly the 
crystalline lens, the retina and the interior of the optical tube. 

These extraordinary occurrences, with the exception of the last, hap- 
pened frequently to me for several years. At length they ceased. For 
three or four years, I felt like an ordinary man ; but soon after this, a 
new developement took place within me, of a more pleasing nature, 
though not less extraordinary. I have never studied music, therefore 
I know not the names of the different parts, and shall find it difficult to 
explain to you what I wish ; for my internal experience this time, con- 
sisted of vocal and instrumental music. 

At this period of my life, I lived in the country, being the greater part 
of my time entirely alone. It seemed to me, — though I was sensible 
that it could not be so, — that there was an instrument of music situated 
in the interior part of my brain. It performed entire pieces of music, 
without pause or fault ; and when it had finished an air, there was a 
pause for a few seconds, then it would re-commence with the same or 
another. It mattered not how I was engaged, nothing I could do would 
stop it ; until it had finished its piece of music, it would continue with- 
out pausing. I resorted to various means to stop it : I worked hard, 
trying to think of nothing but my work. — I visited my neighbours to 
pass the time in social chat, — I took long walks and runs ; but all in 
vain, for the music continued its sweet notes, performing whole pieces 
over and over in the most harmonious style ; the tones resembling those 
of a small metallic organ or music box. This continued about a year, 
when it was succeeded by the music of voices ; the latter, unlike tho 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

former, seemed to take place externally to me, and to be some distance 
above me in the air. I could distinguish three voices performing various 
pieces, sacred and otherwise in succession, with great precision and har- 
mony. Some of the airs were familiar to me and Some were not ; but all 
the tones were of the richest kind. I will observe in this place that some 
of the pieces performed, both vocal and instrumental, I had learned 
many years before, but had forgotten them ; while others, which I but 
partially remembered, my mysterious powers performed without fault. 
At length the instrumental music died away, leaving me to be enter- 
tained by the vocal alone ; the latter remaining with me for about three 
years, commencing as soon as I awoke in the morning, and continuing 
with but little intermission through the day, and to the last moment of 
my wakefulness at night. 

Perhaps you may think there was some disturbance or disease either 
in my body or mind, but I assure you there was not : I had perfect 
health of body, was entirely sober and rational, and in a happy mood 
of mind, generally, though a poor man. 

Frequently have I thought, when walking along the country road, 
listening to my musical powers, how pleasing it would be if I could 
believe in the existence of Good Spirits ! I could then have reason to 
think that I had found favor with some of them, who might be hovering 
above and around me, endeavoring to cheer me with their songs. At 
that time I did not believe in the Spirit World, though since, I have 
felt inclined to admit the rationality of the doctrine. These mysterious 
visitings have left me for some time past. They were generally agree- 
able to me, and would have been more so could I have spoken of them 
to my neighbors, without fear of being considered crazy. 

I have now to relate to you a new phase of their strange workings 
within me, which has completely astounded me, and for the first time 
produced an uneasy perplexity, I have been in the habit, since I have 
been married, of reading an hour or two after my family have retired 
for the night ; so, it was generally near midnight when I sought my bed. 
One night last week, between ten and eleven o'clock, while reading as 
usual, my attention was withdrawn from my book by the shrill, lively 
notes of an instrument which sounded to me like the shepherd's pipe of 
ancient days. It seemed to play a series of lively variations and qua- 
vers. Like the fluttering butterfly, it was here, there and everywhere ; 
above and around me, when after about two minutes, they ceased, then 
all was still. I hurried into the yard of the house, looked around, but 
could discover nobody about at that time of night. Returning to my 
room, the next few moments were passed in awful suspense. This did 
not last long, however, for my attention was seized by hearing two per- 
sons discoursing, who seemed from their voices, to be of the male sex. 
I could not distinguish what they said, as their voices seemed to be too 
far above me ; but I caught the names of several persons who, I knew 
according to history, had lived many centuries ago. Their discourse 
lasted a few minutes, then it ceased. There was a dead silence for a few 
seconds, during which I was rooted to the floor motionless, — all the pow- 
ers of my mind and soul being absorbed in wondering suspense. Again 
I heard a few notes from the mysterious pipe, and then a voice, powerful 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

and distinct, called me by name. As you may imagine, I was struck 
mute and motionless with astonishment. With suspended breath I 
anxiously listened in expectation of hearing more, but nothing followed 
that night, for I was too much afraid to respond to the call. Since then, 
I have abandoned my nocturnal readings." 

Such is the substance of the letter I wrote to A. J. Davis, desiring him 
to give me his opinion and advice upon the strange matter. He pub- 
lished the same in his Journal, the "Herald of Progress," for May 12th, 
1860, and on May 19th, he published an article in answer to it. The 
important points relating to my communication, are as follows : — 

" The case of Alexander S is not new in the annals of mystery ; 

the introverted action of the mind is possible, but rarely experienced. 

Swedenborg's condition was oftentimes not unlike that of Mr. S , 

showing the naturalness of such visitations whenever the mind's inter- 
nal arrangements are propitious, In such experiences, it is absurd to 
reject the hypothesis of /Spiritual instigation. But it would be equally 
absurd to suppose that the Spirits were personally present, superintend- 
ing each metamorphosis of internal action, as many persons are disposed 
to conclude from the mysterious novelty of the experience. In examin- 
ing the mind's internal mechanism, we get at not only the actions of 
organs, but also discern the nature of the action. Each part of the mind 
diffuses a particular influence all over the constitution ; and the in- 
fluences that have emenated from all the parts, constitute ' sensation,' 
or the lightning of the nervous system, and inasmuch as human beings 
are organized upon the same principal, so it happens that an influenoe 
imparted to another, awakens in that other effects analogous to those 
felt by the one who imparted it. Thus a combatative person, on his 
imparting his organal influence, will cause another to feel identical sen- 
sations. The same is true of every other organ, 

These facts are familiar to modern psycologists. They stand in the 
gateway between heaven and earth, preventing at once too much cre- 
dulity and too much doubt ; for such facts demonstrate the double na- 
ture of man, and at the same time, that he is not the cause of all spiritual 
phenomena. The automatic hemisphere of mind is quite as marvellous 
as the counter-hemisphere of voluntary powers, and when truly studied, 
man becomes as much a wonder before death, a« when he returns in 
the estate of spirit. 

It would seem, judging from our correspondent's testimony, that his 
own spirit carried on the process originally instigated by the invisible 
intelligence. They had diffused an influence upon his nervous system, 
which entering into chemical combination with the sensitive elements, 
they (the spirits) could neither control nor extract from their subject. 
It is evident that many spirits have little knowledge of their own abilities 
to control the influence they cast upon mediums. The consequence 
was, that what should have been voluntary and under the control of 
the wishes or will, became instead, automatic and beyond management. 
The vibrations and concussive sounds, and the instantaneous represen- 
tations of the nervous system, tfec, by means of beautiful lights, were 
inevitable effects, whenever his own and the foreign intluences met, like 
two tiny thunder-clouds of opposite polarity. His vision was not with 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

the eyes, but by means of the pervading optical influence ; that is to say : 
the sensitive medium of physical sight was impressed with the internal 
facts and recurring phenomena. This explanation is intended to cover 
all cases of this kind ; but one thing is remarkable, yet agreeing with 
our explanations ; — we refer to the repetitions or recurring character of 
his experiences, no other facts more clearly illustrates the occult opera- 
tions of his own mental machinery. The Spirit Guardian, for example, 
would start a tune in his memory— perhaps impart an influence to the 
organal centre where music is perceived by the mind, then the impressed 
and propulsed faculties would go forward with the operation. We have 
seen this phenomenon many times in persons who were impressed to 
address an audience, or to write a poem, &c, the Spirit Guardian of the 
medium would set the machinery in motion, and then retire ; whereupon 
the medium's mind would take up the operation, and continue, as 
though it were an unthinking automaton. But there is evidence better, 
— the hearing of one's name pronounced by tongues in the air. In this 
case, the spiritual ear is reached, — the floors, roof and leagues of atmos- 
phere vanish from the spaces between the speaker and the listener ; they 
seem to stand in each other's presence ; — the whole ocean of human ex- 
istence is stilled for the moment, and the person addressed by a voice 
from heaven, is either paralyzed with fright, or exuberant with gratifi- 
cation. Such a moment is sublime, because it seems to dissipate all 
doubt, and to reveal the external future. Heaven grant that all mei 
may know the truth, and be free." 

After reading Mr. Davis's reply to my communication, I considers 
myself much enlightened on the subject, much relieved of my timidity, 
and after some mature reflection, I resolved, that if there was a Spirit 
wishing to communicate with me, I would avail myself of the opportu- 
nity, and with as much firmness as I could assume, invite the invisible 
intelligence to further proceedings. Accordingly, the following night, 
I was seated in my room alone, with writing materials and a book before 
me. The clock struck eleven ; I endeavoured to read, but it was a vain 
effort, for I understood not what I read, — my mind being absorbed by 
subjects of greater moment. A thousand thoughts flitted through my 
mind ; some of a hopeful, and some of a doubtful nature, and some 
fearfully speculative. " Is it possible such things can be?" Tasked my- 
self. " Shall I really hold communion with a spirit of the other world?" 
"Who can it be?" "What can be the purport of the visit?" Such 
questions occurred to me mentally. Oh ! with what eager expectancy 
Aid I wish for the moment to solve their mysteries ! Thus some minutes 
passed, all around me being silent as death, as I waited with an intense, 
uneasy suspense. At length, as though coming from a distant field, I 
heard the sweet, playful notes of the shepherd's pipe, — faint and low at 
first, then increasing in strength as they seemed to approach me. This 
music, I allowed to be an announcement that my spiritual visitor was 
approaching me. As the first sounds of the pipe impressed me, all the 
powers of my mind and soul seemed instantly to concentrate themselves, 
and suspend their connection with my body. Still I heard the music, 
and I then became convinced, that I did not hear it through the medium 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

of my bodily ears. At length the music ceased; when a voice — the 
same I before had heard — called me by name. 

" Who calls me?" I inquired mentally, with considerable trepidation. 

"I am the spirit of one, who, like you in nature, once inhabited the 
earth as mortal man, far back in the history of nations," answered the 
voice, in a grave, manly tone. 

"Make known your name, — prove your identity, and then communi- 
cate your wishes," I replied, with a little more assurance ; for I thought 
it prudent to know in the commencement, with whom I was communi- 
cating. 

"Here are two spirits present," answered the voice, — "the one that 
addresses you is Saul of Tarsis ; or better known to the inhabitants of 
earth, as Paul the Apostle. My companion is Judas Iscariot ; I presume 
you have read of us both, in that book called the New Testament : — if 
so, I beg of you not to form any idea of us from that book, for it does 
not contain an item of truth relating to our true character or histories. 
That book, which received its origin through my influence, speaks of 
me as being one of the best, purest, noblest and most pious mortals 
that ever lived ; and of my companion, Judas, as one of the worst that 
possibly could be. The fact is, if you were to reverse the characters 
given of us in that book, you would come nearer the truth. It is true, 
that Judas was a selfish man ; and that he was guilty of ingratitude and 
cruelty, in betraying the good man, Jesus of Nazareth, to the Sanhedrim ; 
but however henious his offence may appear to you, it will admit of 
extenuation, when the truth is known. It was I, friend Alexander, 
who was the plotter and instigator of that horrid tragedy — the death of 
Jesus. Judas Iscariot was in my power ; he acted at my suggestion, 
and did my bidding ; he received the opprobrium of the evil deed, while 
I, the true actor, escaped with impunity. But that black deed was only 
one item of the many black crimes, of which I was guilty, during my 
career of pious hypocrisy, while on earth. The facts of which, I intend 
to bring to your notice ; in so doing, I shall prove my identity, for no 
man or spirit can unravel my wicked career, excepting myself." 

"How shall I know or believe, what you say to be the truth?" I in- 
quired of the spirit, " since you have given yourself so bad a character ?" 

"Friend Alexander," said another spiritual voice, which I judged to 
be that of Judas Iscariot, "you may believe what my friend Saul says 
to you, for he is quite a different personage to what he was when on 
earth. It is true, that then, he was one of the worst men, as a hypocrite, 
liar, defrauder and murderer ; I also, was not the most innocent and 
harmless of men ; but since then, there has been a great lapse of time ; 
— thousands of worlds have been brought into existence, and thousands 
destroyed. In every thing on earth, and in the Spirit World, as well, 
great changes have been produced for the better ; therefore you must 
not be surprised that Saul and Judas are no longer what they once wore. 
Indeed ! friend Alexander, we are spirits of a much improved nature, 
since we acted our wicked parts upon the earth. We have had nearly 
eighteen centuries of isolation and separation from the harmonious 
society of the Spirit World, which time we have passed in fasting, re- 
pinings, remorse and repentance, endeavouring to purge ourselves from 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

the wickedness of our mortal lives, and to render ourselves capable of 
entering upon our spiritual career. I must inform you that we have 
not struggled in vain. There is but one other task we have to achieve, 
before we shall be entitled to take our positions among the exalted. 
My companion, Saul, will inform you what that is." [ 

"What is the purport of your communication ?" I inquired of the 
Spirits. 

"My Friend, for so I must consider you, as I will explain presently," 
responded the Spirit, Saul, "Judas has informed you that we have 
passed many centuries, in a state of isolation, and separation from the 
happy spirits of this world, which became a necessary, self-inflicted 
punishment, before we could become worthy of. mingling in the social 
harmony of other Spirits. You can have no idea of the nature and ex- 
tent of the punishment we have undergone. No hell that ever was in- 
vented by earthly Priest, can equal it in severity ; yet, there is no hell 
or torture inflicted in the Spirit World. Every wicked Spirit that comes 
here, brings the means of his punishment with him in his own nature, 
which are the stings of his evil conscience. When a Spirit passes from 
the earth to this world, every trait of his nature, habits, principles and 
passions are deli neated on his spiritual featu res ; so that lies and decep- 
tions are totally useless here. The Spirits are examined as they come, 
and then placed in society and positions, corresponding to their natures 
which they possessed in their earthly life. When I made my appear- 
ance, after being killed by Nero's order, all the Spirits who saw me 
were startled with horror, when they discovered the many traits of my 
wicked nature; no society would receive me, — all fled from me with 
loathing, and at length, I was driven to a solitary desert spot, on the 
outskirts of the lowest sphere : there to remain until my evil nature 
had consumed itself in sorrow, remorse, wailings, and a deprivation 
of that celestial pabulum which constitutes the food of the Spirits in this 
world. I was cut off from all noble and intelligent society, — cut off 
from the good and happy ; all was gloom and barrenness around me. 
The light, heat and glory of God did not penetrate my wretched locality ; 
— the stings of my conscience and memory, with the hunger of my 
spiritual body, became so intense, that I wished to be annihilated, but 
I could not die. Oh ! the agony of ceaseless hunger, is greater than all 
the other sufferings that can be endured ! As Judas was my confidant 
and agent on the earth, he knew all my iniquities and wicked designs, 
— he served me with great zeal in the execution of my conspiracy 
against the good man, Jesus. I was therefore in the power of Judas in 
that respect ; I was afraid that he might expose my crimes to the world, 
to prevent which, I rewarded his faithful, though sinful services, by 
taking his life. When I passed into the Spirit World, I found that Ju- 
das, by the decree of our spiritual superiors, was to be my only com- 
panion, during the long term of my. spiritual exile and purification; 
judge then, if you can, the reception I met with from him, when we met 
at the cheerless spot assigned us. With all the rancour, hate and vin- 
dictiveness that it is possible for a wicked Spirit to possess, Judas assailed 
me. All my blackest deeds he continually brought to my remembrance ; 
all my frauds, hypocricies and meanness, he used as so many venomous 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

stings, to wound my agonizing and remorseful conscience. I endea- 
voured to retort in a similar manner ; but he was invulnerable to my less 
powerful attacks, while I continually suffered under his lashes. Oh ! 
my Friend Alexander I mankind need not think that there is a hell in 
the Spirit World to punish the wicked ; for the wicked will carry with 
them hells sufficiently poignant to punish them for their misdeeds. So 
it was with me and Judas, from our remorse, our mutual recrimination, 
our ceaseless hunger, and our hopeless state ; our immortal states were 
most horribly wretched. This miserable state continued from year to 
year,— from age to age, and century to century, until the blackness of 
our hearts, and the turpitude of our minds, were gradually consumed 
by our anguish. After the lapse of more than seventeen centuries, the 
Powers above us, who regulate our spiritual conditions, relieved us from 
our dreary and painful exile. Finding us penitent, humble and com- 
pletely changed for the better, they received us into the society of the 
Spirits, and ameliorated our condition, by which we could receive com- 
forts and continue to improve ourselves. We rapidly improved : suavity, 
serenity and tranquil enjoyment, succeeded to our bitterness of nature. 
A love of truth and justice, and a desire to do what is right, succeeded 
to our past evil proclivities. A great thirst for knowledge possessed us ; 
for we found that all who aspired to a higher condition, must render 
themselves capable, by a knowledge of all things. Thus nearly another 
century passed on, in course of which, we have so improved in our na- 
tures, that we are the very opposite of our former selves. We are now 
promised to be exalted to a higher sphere, after we shall have accom- 
plished a certain task, which is the cause or motive we have, in commu- 
nicating with you." 

"What may be the nature of that task, and how related to me?" I 
inquired of the Spirits. 

"We are requested," answered the Spirit Saul, "as an act of atone- 
ment for our past wicked deeds, for the benefit of mankind, that we 
should descend to the earth, and seek out a man to act as our agent and 
confessor. To him, make known our misdeeds, as connected with the 
conspiracy and death of Jesus of Nazareth. To make known to the 
world, the true history of that good man, who was the victim of our 
wickedness, — to disabuse the world of the lies, errors and follies to which 
they render their faith and homage. Such is the task we have to perform 
before we are admitted to a higher sphere of exaltation ; and the first 
step we have taken, is to select you, Alexander, to be our medium and 
agent, through which we will publish to the world the important truths 
which we have to make known." 

" Why have you selected me to be your medium and agent on earth ?" 
I inquired of Saul; being desirous to know his motive in so doing. 
" Could you not find a man more befitting the office than I ? I have no 
influence or wealth to aid me in doing your bidding, even should I be 
enabled to furnish the talent and opportunity." 

" It matters not," responded Saul ; "you are the one selected, and you 
must comply. However, I have not any objections to acquaint you in 
part with the reasons why you are selected. If I were to tell you all 
the reasons, they possibly might make you vain, which I do not wish 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

to do. When our Spiritual Powers imposed upon us the task, they re- 
quested that the man we should select for our medium, should be one 
who had lived half a century at least, and that he should possess certain 
qualities, which I will not name. To these conditions we were obliged 
to give our assent, if we wished to achieve our own object in view ; 
though we knew it would be very difficult to find such a man. How- 
ever, we descended to the earth to look for our man ; but after several 
years' wandering and searching, we found all our efforts to be in vain, 
for such a man was not to be found. We found many who were repre- 
sented to be such as we wanted ; but after minutely investigating their 
private characters, we found them lacking in the main qualities. We 
therefore gave up the search as a hopeless affair. Sometime afterward, 
Judas and I were holding a consultation as to what we should do, when 
casting our eyes below upon the mundance scene, we beheld a little boy 
reading the bible to his mother, while she worked with her needle in 
her chair. Something in the physiognomy of the boy, excited our cu- 
riosity, so that we drew near. As the boy read, the subject seemed to 
shock his sense of truth ; for he left off reading and asked his mother if 
that which he read was true. The mother felt shocked that her child 
seemed to doubt what she considered to be the word of God. She 
accordingly told the child that it was true. The boy with great energy, 
replied, * mother, I cannot believe it !' * That is a noble boy !' I observed 
to Judas ; ' his love and just sense of truth prevents him giving credence 
to the fables and lies of that old book ; though his fond mother tells him 
it is truth itself." 

" Saul !" said Judas to me, with sudden vivacity, " an idea strikes me, 
by which we may accomplish our object. Suppose we were to take that 
little boy under our guardian care, — screen him from all harm, and 
direct his mind in all matters necessary and good ; protecting him until 
he shall arrive at fifty years of age, then we can make him Our medium 
and agent. I thought the plan of Judas to be an excellent one ; accord- 
ingly we took the boy under our tutelar care. That little boy, Friend 
Alexander, was yourself." 

"Ah!" I exclaimed, and said "I do remember the incident, — I was 
then about nine years of age. I was in the daily practice of reading the 
bible to my mother at her request ; I remember the chapter and verse, 
and from that day, I doubted the truth of the old book. But tell me, 
Saul : have you and Judas been my Guardian Spirits ever since?" 

"We have," replied Saul; "and we have done you many services, 
unknown to you. We have saved your life several times. Once when 
you were a boy, you were in a tree — on one of the highest branches, 
trying to steal a bird's nest, when the limb gave way; — you fell, and 
certainly would have lost your life had I not saved you. When you 
were a young man, you travelled in France, where we guided you 
through many dangers. When you were crossing the Ocean, one of the 
ship's masts snapped asunder ; when it, with the yards, sails and rat- 
tlings came down with a crush upon the deck where you were standing ; 
there you certainly would have been killed, had we not saved you. 
You started from Charleston in the schooner * Sarah,' for Mobile ; when 
in Mobile Bay, you were tossed upon its boisterous waters, when the 



*y 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

boom tackle broke; then the boom swooped round with a tremendous 
force ; — you were standing at the helm ; your head being on the same 
plane with the boom ; — your brains in another second would have been 
scattered to the winds, had I not thrown you flat upon the deck at the 
instant. We saved you from being robbed and assassinated in Mobile 
city one night. Once you were in a small canoe, on the Mississippi 
waters ; your intention being to get on board of a steamboat that was 
coming up the river. The officers of the boat did not perceive you ; 
consequently they did not arrest the progress of the vessel. Your 
canoe wast in a direct line with the boat, which would have been run 
under the water in another instant, had we not so guided it, as to 
glide it off within an inch of the huge vessel : — then as the tWo vessels 
were moving in opposite directions, — swift as the wind I infused into 
you a sudden impulse, which caused you to spring like a grasshop- 
per from the canoe into the boat. Thus you were saved a death by 
drowning. Do you not think we speak the truth, when we say that we 
have been your guardians for a long time past?" 

"Saul!" I made answer, "I now perceive that you have not only 
spoken the truth ; but I find myself much indebted to you and your 
companion, in gratitude for the services you have rendered me. All 
the instances of peril that you have related, recur to my memory. They 
were considered by me as fortunate escapes ; but I had no idea at the 
time that any Spirit or power beyond this world, was taking an interest 
in my preservation." 

" I could mention many other instances wherein we have saved you 
from danger," resumed the Spirit, Saul ; " but I will not take up more 
of your time than is necessary : however, there are some things I must 
relate, to give you a correct understanding of our good intentions, so as 
to establish your confidence in me and Judas. You remember the first 
time you loved one of earth's fair daughters ; — that love was unhappy 
in its issue. You were disappointed, — your affections were blighted, — 
you became a man of sorrow, — you took to wandering, and fell into 
a bad habit, with the motive of mitigating the poignancy of your feel- 
ings. We could not eradicate from your breast the pains accruing from 
blighted affections, or we would have done so ; however, we kept our 
guardian eyes upon you, that you should not go to destruction. We left 
you alone for a time, to pursue your wanderings, thinking that the new 
adventures you might encounter, would be the greatest balm to a wound- 
ed heart. Time and change of scene did not produce the desired effect, 
we then thought it prudent to interpose and save you from destruction, 
for the course you were pursuing would have led you to that end. Ac- 
cordingly, we worked upon your nervous system by means of magnetic 
and electric powers. You saw within you certain beautiful lights, and 
many strange perceptions; you heard many strange sounds, — to you 
very wonderful — though to us in the spirit, they were very simple. These 
impressions caused within you great astonishment ; you became aroused 
—you saw your fallen condition, — you became ashamed, and resolved 
to recover your self-esteem and social respect. We continued our pro 
with you, and at length you began to search for the cause. You inves- 
tigated matters of medicine and philosophy, and in time, your mind 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

became trained to study ; in this process, your sorrow, your evil habit 
and despair were overcome. Having thus recovered you from your 
desponding condition, in order to prevent you from falling into the like 
state again, we thought we would produce within you, something which 
should produce a happy state of feeling and joyous mind, that should 
serve you under all circumstances of life, to cheer you onward. We 
accordingly acted upon that part of the brain where the faculty of music 
is situated; you were then internally entertained by a series of low, 
sweet tones, as though coming from a small instrument, — performing 
all the good, lively airs that you had ever heard from your, boyhood. 
By way of^a change, we so worked upon your faculties, that it seemed 
to you, you heard singing of trio voices, externally to you, of the most 
harmonious strains. In fact, we produced within you that happy mood, 
that every thing within and around you seemed filled with musical 
harmony. Thus we cared for you, and led you on until you entered 
upon the marriage state ; then we withdrew our powers from over you, 
finding that you would have occupation enough for your mind of a 
domestic nature." 

" Kind and Worthy Spirits !" I exclaimed, as feelings of deep gratitude 
impelled me, — " I now perceive that you have been my true guardian 
friends. You have now made clear to me all those mysterious occur- 
rences that have been hanging over me so many years. As I am so 
deeply indebted to you, I consider that you have a just claim upon my 
gratitude ; therefore command me in any respect, — I will exert all my 
powers to do your bidding. Speak your wishes, and let me know how 
I can serve you." 

"All explanations necessary having been established between us," 
responded the Spirit of Saul, " I will now proceed to inform you what 
I and Judas wish of you. You have now passed your fiftieth year, — 
which is one of the conditions we are bound to in making our selection 
of a medium ; and in all other respects, you are the man qualified to 
do us the service we require. We will now leave you for a while, to 
consult with our Superiors ; and when we shall communicate with you 
the next time, we will enter upon our intended task. Farewell for the 
present." 

The preceding communication with the Spirits was committed to 
paper from memory ; but from fear of trusting too much to that faculty, 
I resolved for the future, to write down the most material points of the 
Spirits' discourse, and afterwards to write them out in full, with such 
additions and illustrations as the subjects should require, to make them 
understood. Accordingly, I made all necessary preparations, when in j 
the two following sittings, the Spirit of Saul communicated to me the 
following : 



INTRODUCTION. 19 



CONFESSIONS OF SAUL OF TAESUS. 



•' Friend Alexander!" said the Spirit Saul to me, at our next com- 
munion, who, at this time, seemed to be unattended by Judas : " Since 
I was with you, I have had an interview with our Superior Spiritual 
Powers, who regulate the affairs of this sphere in which I am placed. 
T made known to them my good fortune in having discovered you ; I 
described your character; related some of the incidents of your life, 
and at length gained their assent to make you our Medium and Agent 
in the business I have alluded to. I will now give you a sketch of my 
true worldly career, which will be necessary, in order to understand 
rightly the important narrative that is to follow it." 

The Spirit gave vent to a deep sigh, and paused for a few minutes, as 
though he were endeavouring to overcome some violent emotions. At 
length he said in a saddened tone of voice : 

" It is a sad thing, my friend, to confess that which I am about to do. 
To speak of one's self, concerning things and deeds, the remembrance 
of which fills me with horror ; but such is the result of a sinful life : 
therefore, however loathing and repugnant to me, it must be done. Bear 
with me then, my friend, during my recital; — let not your just indig- 
nation break with me, but wait patiently to the end, and bear witness 
to the only atonement I can make to outraged humanity for my past 
wickedness and follies. 

I was born in Tarsus, a city of Cilicia, about two years preceding the 
birth of Jesus of Nazareth ; this is important to observe, for after the 
death of Jesus, when my name is first introduced in the book of Acts, 
I am there represented as a very young man, — supposed to be much 
younger than he was, when in fact I was his elder. The name given to 
me by my parents was Saul, after my progenitor through the line of 
Benjamin. My father was named Bathus, my mother Eunice ; they 
were both pious people of the Jewish faith, and I was educated in the 
same principles. 

My father was an active, persevering man, — desirous of doing some- 
thing in the world ; but seeing nothing better or more available to him 
than common business, he limited his ambition to that, to which he 
applied himself with great energy, with the idea in view of becoming 
in course of time wealthy. He was a tent maker by trade, at which he 
prospered and gained riches. 

After receiving the rudiments of an education at home, I was sent, at 
about twelve years of age, to Jerusalem to finish under the tutorship of 
Rabbi Rabban Gamaliel, a celebrated man, with whom I remained 
several years. I said that I was educated in the same religious princi- 
ples as my parents, and during my youth I was an innocent believer in 
them; but when at the Holy City, surrounded by the Priesthood, and 
having recourse to their books of law and traditions, a -real tiood of 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

light gradually spread over my mind. I could not help perceiving the 
trickeries, knaveries, hypocricies and selfishness of tnose holy men; 
and as well, the lies, fables and absurdities of the sacred books. I con- 
sequently became an infidel to the whole system and state of things, 
from the beginning to the end ; but I had the prudence to hide my sen- 
timents, and in course of time became as great a hypocrite as the rest. 
I inherited from my father his persevering, active nature, and as I grew 
toward manhood, I felt a restless desire or ambition to do something in 
the world above common men, though I could not tell of what nature 
it should be. I could not reconcile myself to the idea of pursuing busi- 
ness and wealth as my father did before me ; nor could I be contented 
with the limited and disgusting routine of the priesthood : — I thought 
there was something greater destined for me to do than to be singing 
psalms, blowing trumpets, or gorging upon roasted meats, which were 
the general avocations of the Holy Priesthood. Yes ! I felt an ambition 
within me to do something greater and more ennobling than this, — I 
wished to be mounting up to a conspicuous elevation in the estimation 
of the world, — I felt as though I could grasp in one hand all the minds 
of mankind, and with the other that I could lead them in fetters. 

I continued my studies at Jerusalem until I had attained manhood, 
when I was suddenly called home, as my father had fallen sick. I re- 
turned to Tarsus : soon after my father died, leaving me his business 
and a great portion of his wealth. At the solicitation of my mother and 
her friends, I continued the business, though much against my inclina- 
tion ; however, as I had not any definite idea of any other course that 
I could pursue to my liking, I continued to follow in my father's steps 
for some years, — in the mean time, my wealth was increasing. When 
I had attained my thirtieth year, my mother died : then I resolved to 
quit the business, leave my native city, and return to Jerusalem, for 1 
longed, to be one of the actors, if- not the rulers of that distinguished 
city. I accordingly turned all my effects into money, — took leave of 
my friends, and with one servant or bondman, I bid adieu to Tarsus. 

About the time that I arrived at Jerusalem, Pontus Pilate was ap- 
pointed Governor of Judea, and Caiaphas was shortly after made High 
Priest of the Temple. I had several friends in the city ; among whom 
was my old tutor, Gamaliel, who proposed to me certain matters by 
way of occupation, but none of them met my views or inclinations at 
the time. Thus I continued inactive for the space of a year, wandering 
to and fro, without knowing what it was I sought or wanted. At length 
in the course of my peregrinations, my curiosity and attentions were 
aroused by observing a wild looking man in an uncouth dress, preach- 
ing in various localities, a system of reformed theological doctrines. I 
listened to several of his discourses before the people, and found the 
main subject to be * The Repentance of Sins, and remission of the same 
through baptism of water.' But that which excited my greatest curi- 
osity was, that this preacher, who was called John the Baptist, during 
his preaching, several times intimated that somebody was coming 
after him, greater than he; who would have not only the power to 
forgive and remit sins, but would be enabled to cure diseases of the 
flesh, and open the heavens to all true believers. In fact, this John 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

intimated that the time for the coming of the Messiah was at hand, and 
he wonld shortly appear. 

As I said before, this part of the preacher's discourse aroused within 
me a great curiosity. I was desirous of discovering who this great per- 
sonage could be that John was keeping in the background. I suspected 
that John was in colleague with somebody, who, under the assumption 
of the Messiah's advent, was going to make an attempt to change the 
theological views of society, and exalt himself into power. I was not 
credulous enough to believe in the appearance of any true Messiah. This 
set my mind in action— I endeavoured to imagine their designs, doctrines 
and actions, until I became weary of reflection ; and at length I resolved 
to sift the matter thoroughly and as quickly as possible. Accordingly, I 
sought an interview with John the Baptist, in his retreat among the 
wilderness of mountains by the lake Asphaltez. I saw the man, and 
found him to be more of a fool and fanatic, than a cunning imposter as 
I suspected. He was a wild, ascetical fanatic, who had rendered himself 
crazy by studying the books of the prophets ; yet he was sincere in what 
he said and believed. He said that he had found the Messiah in a certain 
man, whom he was going to baptize on the morrow, w T hen he would 
introduce him to the people. Having gained this information from 
John, I resolved to be present at this baptism. 

On the day appointed, I was at the place designated ; — I saw the bap- 
tism, and I saw the man whom John had brought forth to play a con- 
spicuous part in life. I certainly never saw a more noble, amiable and 
handsome man in my life ; and after hearing certain accounts of his 
skill, or mysterious power in curing of diseases, I considered him a fit 
person to assume the part that John — in his religious fanaticism- 
considered he naturally inherited. All these things combined, suggested 
an idea to me, of what should be my future career. I hurried to my 
home, and entered into deep reflection. Idea after idea, and plan after 
plan did I revolve and scan in my mind. At length my plan was de- 
cided upon, — I sprang to my feet, and paced the room, exclaiming * It 
shall be so ! I will yet be a new star, to dazzle the vision of mankind ! 
They shall follow where I lead ; — they shall obey, reverence, and per- 
haps, do me homage. Now Saul to action ! Forward to the end in view, 
and crush down all things that obstruct thy path !' 

In this sketch of my earthly career, I need not give you the particulars 
of my proceedings: I will merely state my design and its results, — 
leaving all details until I give you the True Narrative of Jesus, which 
is the great object I have in view. 

My design was, to make Jesus and his reform doctrines the means by 
which I would build a new religious sect, that should be acceptable and 
promising to the poorer and ignorant part of the community ; and which 
should seem to be based upon the dim and ambiguous ravings oi' the 
Jewish Prophets. In fact, by misconstruing and misrepresenting the 
discourses of Jesus with the aid of lies and deceptions, to represent him 
as the expected Messiah, and that he should represent himself as such, 
even in defiance of his own intentions and speech. This I found possible, 
with the assistance of others who worked at my bidding. After Jesus 
should have run his reform career for a time, it was my intention to bring 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

him in collision with the authorities of the Temple and the Government. 
I said to myself 'he must then he removed and sacrificed to the principles 
and doctrines he endeavoured to establish in society ; for new principles 
take deep root in the minds of men, when they are well sprinkled with 
the blood of martyrdom/ This I managed to accomplish by my evil 
schemings and workings. Jesus was sacrificed. The foundation was 
now laid, upon which I built the superstructure of my ambitious desires. 
John the Baptist, while acting under his religious craziness, served my 
ends ; but while in prison, he returned to a sane state of mind, and 
began to see his errors and folly. * From fear that he would recant what 
he had previously taught concerning Jesus, I caused him to be destroyed. 
Judas I slew with my own hands, as soon as I could dispense with his 
services, from fear that he would betray me to the world, as he was the 
depository of my secrets. There was now but one person of whom I 
was jealous, or considered an obstruction in my path; it was Stephen: 
I hated him for his virtues and talents, and I was afraid that while he 
lived, I should not be the first to lead and govern the disciples of Jesus, 
and be considered worthy of their esteem. Accordingly I managed to 
have him denounced by the Sanhedrim, and sacrificed to their fury and 
my hatred. 

Having accomplished all these preliminaries, I came forward in open 
day as an actor. With delegated authority from the Sanhedrim, I 
travelled toward Damascus, under the pretence of persecuting the new 
people ; but in fact, it was to get into a more favourable locality where 
I could perform the first part of my open intended career. As I ap- 
proached the city, a storm arose of thunder and lightning. ' Here is an 
opportunity I must not lose,' I said to myself. Then I threw myself 
from my horse, — fell prostrate on the ground, and acted a pantomime 
of great terror. Indeed, with a little well performed imposture, I pre- 
tended that the Spirit of Jesus had appeared to me, rebuking me for my 
wicked course, and commanding me henceforth to go through the world 
preaching his doctrines and principles. My imposture was generally 
believed by the disciples and followers of the late Jesus, and all those 
who knew otherwise, did not think it worth while to notice it. After a 
time, — which I passed in reflecting upon my future plans, but which I 
represented as passed in repentance and prayer, — I entered upon my 
travels ; preaching certain doctrines of my own invention, which I gave 
to the world as being the doctrines of that Jesus whom I had caused to 
be murdered. My own fictions and lies I passed off as being the gospels 
of truth, as delivered from the mouth of the crucified Jesus, the Christ, 
— the Son of God. 

Oh ! what a terrible monstrocity ! What a mountain of vile imposition 
I have imposed upon the world ! My deeds while on earth were black 
and heinous enough; but the wickedness of my doctrines, which I 
left to after ages of blind credulous man, were ten thousand times 
more damning. What a contrast there is, my friend Alexander, be- 
tween the doctrines taught by Jesus, and those I represented as his ! 
His discourses consisted of the purest and best of morality, calculated 
to establish among men a sense of love, justice, charity and humility. 
He endeavoured to abolish all wicked and vicious habits, practices and 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

notions ; supplying their stead with a knowledge of physical truths and 
principles, all of which tended to harmonize mankind. His speculative 
ideas if not realities, were beautiful assumptions, teaching that there 
was one universal, eternal God of love and mercy, who delighted in all 
that was good among his children ; — rewarding all according to their 
merits. He taught that death was not to be annihilation, as some sup- 
posed ; but only a transition state from our mortal to an immortal na- 
ture: — where the emigrating Spirit would be placed in a sphere of 
favourable conditions to carry out all its noble and virtuous aspirations. 

The doctrines of Jesus were the principles of nature simplified, easy 
to comprehend, and redounding to the benefit of man. In character, 
Jesus was a lover of truth and of his fellow men, — full of charitable 
and benevolent feeling, — mild and unassuming in his deportment, — 
contented with little in this world, and depending upon God for all 
things, whom he, in his unknown orphan state, styled his Heavenly 
Father. Contrast with this character, friend Alexander, the ridiculous 
and absurd doctrines I preached concerning Jesus ; — all the nonsense of 
faith, grace and salvation by the redemption of sins through the blood 
of Jesus the Christ. Look at the books called the Gospels, — the original 
one being written by Luke, at my suggestion and designing, from 
which, all the others have been copied and imitated, with thousands of 
additions and omissions, to suit the notions of the various itinerant 
preachers, calling themselves the teachers of Jesus' words. Examine 
these books, and see the mass of confused and contradictory nonsense 
delivered as the teachings of Jesus. See the absurd and ridiculous 
light in which his character is represented, with qualites neither befitting 
a man nor a god, — both of which he is represented to be. Coming into 
the world in a most ridiculous and unnatural manner, — assuming to 
have a mission, which he never performed, — assuming to have power 
that he never exercised in defence of himself, or his friends, — assuming 
to be sent to a people, who would not receive him, and preaching his 
mission to those he was not sent to. He professes to be a man of peace, 
and that all mankind by him shall be blessed ; — yet he says that he was 
not sent to restore peace, — but the sword. In one place, he says he is 
equal with God, and in another, he says he is not equal. At one time, 
he says his witness or record is truth itself— then in another, he denies 
the same. And in general, his character is represented to be deficient 
of all those qualities necessary to constitute a great and noble man, and 
much more, it is deficient of those necessary to constitute a God, as he 
is represented to be. In fact, Alexander, if you examine the Gospels, 
my Epistles, and all the other writings of the New Testament, you will 
find tRem to be a compilation of lies, contradictory statements, ridicu- 
lous absurdities, and mystical nonsense, too disgusting for any intelli- 
gent person to give credence or dependence to. I was the originator of 
the celebrated Gospels; but subsequent imposters like myself, added 
and altered my model to suit themselves, — all of which have been 
palmed upon the ignorant world as the history and doctrines of Jesus. 

There is one exception I must make, as regards my writings and 
preaching, I taught the doctrine of immortality after death. That is 
actually true, as I have found it to be since my earthly career termi- 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

nated ; yet there is no credit due me for preaching that truth, as it had 
been taught by many, before me or Jesus. I had no definite ideas 
concerning it, and cannot say that I believed it, as my wicked career 
will testify,— though I made it the grand theme of my teachings; but 
finding it acceptable to the people, I laid great stress upon it, and by a 
little sophistry, I made it seem true to their minds. Oh ! my Friend ! 
I wish all my other impositions had been as happy in their results, 
as this. 

Thus, Alexander, instead of teaching the people the sublime and, 
happy morals, and the beautiful speculative ideas of Jesus, I wandered 
over many countries, teaching the detestable dogma to which I have 
alluded, which I called the words of Jesus the Christ. 

I pretended to work some cures in imitation of him, when with a 
little jugglery and some lies, I gained the reputation of working mira- 
cles. Whenever I wanted a new authority, or wished to establish 
anything new, I had a happy faculty of seeing visions ; so that with a 
few mystical figures or images, I construed things just as I wanted 
them to be. Sometimes I pretended that miracles were wrought in my 
favour, in order to establish my importance, and gain reverence from 
the deluded people. Such, as when I was made prisoner at Philipi, 
through the assistance of some friends, I bribed the jailor to let me 
escape ; — then the story was told, in order to screen him, that I was set 
free by an angel. The silly people forgot to think that in my subsequent 
career, I was in more diificult circumstances; yet no angel came to 
deliver me. 

One great reason of my success in making proselytes and gaining 
subscriptions, as I pretended for pious purposes, was the power of my 
hypocritical simulation. I was all things to all men, as nigh as it was 
possible to be. With Jews, I boasted of being a Jew, — with the Phari- 
sees, I was a Pharisee. Before the Greeks, I was a Greek ; and with 
the Romans, I claimed to be a Roman citizen. Before the Gentiles, I 
preached against the laws and ceremonies of Moses; and when I 
thought it to my interest to enter the Temple, I shaved my head, and 
conformed to all other ceremonies. 

I preached meekness and humility in all cases, times and places ; yet 
there was no greater self-willed tyrant than myself, when I thought I 
had the power : for instance, my dispute with Barnabas. Jesus, when 
before his judges, was mocked and otherwise illtreated ; but he bore all 
with the mildness of the lamb. Although I taught the like conduct, 
yet I could not conform to it ; for when the High Priest ordered me to 
be smitten on the cheek, I cursed him with all the rancour and illfeeling 
of a demon. I preached against all worldly interests, especially lucre ; 
yet I was always very zealous in making collections of money, to dis- 
tribute* to distressed brethren at a distance, — in so doing, I never forgot 
to take a share ; and sometimes, I was so covetous that I excited the 
suspicions of certain rival apostles, who made charges against my 
honesty, and sometimes their charges were true. 

Toward the latter part of rny career, many rival pretenders to piety 
and virtue, like myself, rose up against me ; who had much envious 
feeling, suspicion and charges against me. They stripped me of a great 



INTRODUCTION. 25 

many of my assumed virtues, powers, and mighty works, representing 
me to be very much like what I really was — a selfish, ambitious, boast- 
ing imposter. This made me sick at heart, so that I almost repented 
of having entered upon my chosen course. But I found that I had ad- 
vanced too far to recede, — my course was chosen, I was obliged to follow 
it, or suffer an ignominious fall. 

Being naturally of a bold heart, and full of assurance, I recovered 
courage — continued my onward career — repelling the charges of my 
rivals and enemies, and crushing all my opponents that came across 
my path. Thus I continued to wander for some years, making prose- 
lytes to my senseless doctrines, in the name of Jesus the Christ, — pre- 
tending to perform cures of a miraculous nature, — establishing churches 
of which I always made myself the head or Principal. 

In the course of my wanderings, having made a man of note and 
authority, a convert, whose name was Paulius, I changed my name from 
Saul, to Paul, as vanity suggested to me that it sounded of greater worth 
and importance. Thus I continued my career — it being generally suc- 
cessful and pleasing to my ambition, until I entered the Temple, and 
hypocritically conformed to the ceremonies which I had been preaching 
against. The people did not believe me to be sincere ; they were aroused 
to anger against me ; they seized me and brought me before the tribunal 
of the Sanhedrim, under the very same charges I had made against 
Jesus, at the same Sanhedrim a few years before. From that day, the 
tide of fortune turned, and afterward, evil was my destiny. 

After much suffering and imprisonment, I was conveyed to Rome a 
prisoner, to plead my cause before the Imperial Senate. Nero was Em- 
peror then. My cause was thought to be too trifling to be heeded, so 
that I was almost at liberty. I continued to preach and work miracles 
— making many converts, among whom was one of Nero's concubines. 
She professed herself a believer in the new doctrines and faith ; I was 
always in daily communion with her, so that we were intimately ac- 
quainted. She was a woman of great beauty ; — in fact, it was not very 
extraordinary that my carnal passions should be aroused, and desires 
in conformity took possession of me toward her. Considering that I 
had full command over her mind, I was infatuated enough to make 
certain proposals to her. I found myself mistaken in the woman. 
She highly resented my proposals, and immediately acquainted her 
imperial master, and the result was, that in a short time, I found myself 
in prison. I did not remain there long, however, for in a few hours 
afterward I was led forth to execution. Thus ended my ambitious and 
wicked earthly career. 

Now, my friend Alexander, I have given a slight sketch of my evil 
deeds and misspent life while on earth. That it was one of great folly, 
error and wickedness, it will be useless to iterate ; but that is not t ho 
worst of it. The results since my death have been ten thousand times 
more baneful to the cause of humanity, than that which proceeded it. 
For eighteen centuries, the minds of men have been overspread Avith 
a gloomy, destructive superstition that I have entailed tipon them. My 
dogma lias enveloped them with the grossest and darkest of ignorance, 
and it has prevented them from making any advances in virtue, or 



26 INTRODUCTION. 

intellectual improvement. Nearly all those who have endeavoured to 
enlighten and liberate their fellow men, have been crushed out of ex- 
istence. Bloody wars have deluged the earth, in every age and country 
for the space of eighteen hundred years. Men have destroyed each other 
individually with fire, sword, the rack and jibbet. The loathsome 
dungeon, torture and famine, have swept millions of men from the 
earth, and all those who have been spared a cruel and untimely death, 
have been living in mental bondage. 

Such were the awful results of the damnable doctrines that I preached 
to mankind, in the name of Jesus the Christ. Had I known the bane- 
ful consequences of my wreckless ambition, wicked as was my nature, 
I could not have continued in the course, which has proved the greatest 
curse that ever afflicted mankind. But I have suffered — greatly suf- 
fered for my misdeeds ! While the fools, hypocrites and knaves were 
burning incense, and shouting praises to Paul the Apostle for his good 
and pious deeds when on earth, I was shivering and writhing with the 
tortures of the hell within me. The poignant stings of guilt and re- 
morse were piercing my soul through and through, — curling me up 
with a ceaseless, excruciating agony. For nearly eighteen centuries 
did I hunger and thirst after the sustenance peculiar to spiritual life. 
While deluded mortals considered me to be enjoying the beauties and 
bliss of a happy exalted state in this world; I was suffering all the 
indescribable agonies of the self-damned. But time has passed ; I have 
made all the atonement that is required of me here for my misdeeds 
while on earth ; yet there is one duty I must perform to humanity. I 
must enlighten them concerning my history in connection with Jesus 
of Nazareth, and give a true narrative of that part of his life, which 
terminated in a tragic death, of which I was the instigator. It is the 
only atonement I can make for the outrage I have given to mankind, 
and the injustice done to the injured Jesus. When I say this, I speak 
for Judas also, who sincerely joins me in the sentiments I declare ; for 
he, as far as he was connected with this lamentable affair, wishes to 
make whatever atonement is possible to Jesus and mankind. 

Before I proceed to impart to you the information which is to consti- 
tute the True Narrative of Jesus of Nazareth, I must give you a slight 
sketch of his early history, which being remote, and not necessarily 
connected with that part of his life in which I was an actor, I will not 
mingle it with the rest, but impart what I have to say, at present/ 



THE EARLY HISTORY OF JESUS. 



"Friend Alexander, I will not insult your intellect, by supposing 
that you believe there is any truth in the vile and ridiculous account 
that Luke and I concocted, when we wrote the history of Jesus, con- 
cerning Mary, the virgin mother ;— the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove, 
acting as a proxy for the God of 'Heaven, in begetting a son who was 



INTRODUCTION. 27 

to be equal to himself, and had existed through all time before he was 
begotten. I say,— I will not insult your reason, by supposing you to 
believe any part of these silly lies ; but I will give you the true account 
of his youthful days, as far as I received it from Jesus himself. 

A short time after I had passed into the Spirit World — being exiled 
from all society, in dreary exclusion, I received a visit from the Spirit 
of the much injured Jesus, whom I had caused to be sacrificed to the 
hatred of the Jewish Priests. I quailed before his benign and noble 
presence, — feeling myself unworthy to meet his gaze. He gently re- 
buked me for the many evils I had done him; saying that he was 
informed of all by Judas, whom I had sent to the Spirit World the 
same night that Jesus died. He told me that he forgave me for all my 
wickedness in regard to him, — and then he spoke in sympathizing tones 
of my suffering condition. He said he could not mitigate my agonies, 
or he would ; but he advised me to repent, aspire after righteousness, 
and strive to renew my nature for the better, — that my wretched ex- 
clusion would be terminated in course of time, and I then should be 
allowed to mingle with the blessed. He then spoke of many parts of 
his history — enlightening me on many points I knew not before. 

As regards his early days, he said that ■ Joseph, the carpenter, and 
his wife, Mary, moved into Nazareth when he was not many days old. 
Nobody knew from whence they had come. They settled there, and 
gained the esteem of their neighbours as honest, prudent, working 
people. He never heard his parents speak of any mysterious or mi- 
raculous event in connection with his birth ; yet as he grew up he per- 
ceived that there was some mystery or doubt concerning him, whispered 
among the neighbours. Some doubted his being the son of Joseph and 
Mary, — some went so far as to say that Mary never had a child ; for 
little Jos6, as Jesus was called in his youth, had been nourished on 
goat's milk, and the breast of Mary had never suckled a child, — nor did 
she give any other indications of having become a mother. There were 
other instances the folks cited, as proof that Jose was not the son of 
Joseph and Mary. He bore no resemblance in person, disposition, or 
character to them. Whose son was he, then ? Nobody knew, if Joseph 
and Mary were not his parents. However*. the child grew in health, 
strength, and great beauty of person. He did not take pleasure in the 
ordinary mischievous freaks and follies of children : the characteristics 
of his diposition being mildness, general amiability, and susceptibility 
to all grave and pious impressions. He was sent to school at the ordi- 
nary age to the synagogue of the village, where, as soon as he had mas- 
tered the rudiments of the language, he studied with great avidity the 
subjects of morals, metaphysics and religion, as then taught in the 
schools. He seemed to possess great intellectual capacity and compre- 
hension ; for at the age of fifteen, he was pronounced the most intelligent 
youth, and greatest disputer in the synagogue of the village and neigh- 
bourhood. 

As he approached manhood, he became acquainted with a youth 
about his own age, whose name was John, who was the son of a Priest, 
— being educated for one of the Priesthood. This youth was of a rest less, 
erratic and visionary disposition ; not content with the ordinary routine 



28 INTRODUCTION. 

and views of things, for his mind was directed to a series of changes, 
innovations and reforms, which he was continually suggesting and 
advocating, with the greatest of energy and confidence in his illusions. 

The two youths — though Very different in dispositions — became in- 
separable companions; for they found great pleasure in each other's 
company, — not so much that their views in general assimilated, — but 
they found an intense interest in contrasting their dissimilar ideas. 
They took long rambles together ; sometimes being so interested in their 
discourses, that they did not know whither they were going, or where 
they were. Mount Tabor and its environs were frequently the scenes 
of their disputes and rambles. 

One day they were taking a ramble as usual, and they discoursed upon 
certain moral subjects, which were extremely exciting. They had been 
walking for hours without heeding their course ; at length, having made 
a pause, they discovered that they were completely lost. They looked 
around them to discover indications of their whereabouts ; but nothing 
could they see that they knew. The scene presented a grassy vale, — 
along which meandered a small stream. At a short distance, at the foot 
of a hill, they perceived a small hut, constructed of logs — the roof of 
which, being covered with branches, rushes and soil. In front of this 
building, they perceived a human being sitting on a rock, to whom they 
directed their steps, with the view of inquiring their way back to their 
village. When they arrived at the spot, they found the person to be 
an hoary headed old man, enveloped in a long, black robe, bare headed 
and feet without sandals. They soon came to the conclusion that they 
had fallen in the way of a recluse. 

Having greeted the old man and stated their case, he, with a pleasing 
smile upon his countenance, gave the desired information — telling tbem 
that their case was not an uncommon one ; for he had once been a youth 
himself, and had frequently lost his way, and the sight of realities 
around him, in the pleasing contemplation of airy visions. He then 
invited them into his habitation, and set before them some food ; telling 
them to rest and refresh themselves. He also invited them to tarry 
with him the night, — as the day was far spent. The young men ex- 
pressed their sense of his kindness, and gratefully accepted the hospit- 
able invitation. The recluse then replenished his fire with sticks, which 
was burning in the centre of the hut, and when the day was passed, 
they all three lounged around it, passing some hours in discourse. The 
old man seemed to be possessed of a great mind ; whether it came from 
experience, learning, or supernal inspirations, they knew not: — but 
most of his ideas were perfectly new to them — being of the most pro- 
found, philosophic nature, — giving explanations and revelations of 
things, which to them had hitherto been as so many mysteries. He 
spoke of the great mysterious Power pervading all nature, under the 
name of God ; — of the multitude and magnitude of created things ; — of i 
the different races of men — of their past and present errors ; — of the 
gradual progress and capacity of the human mind, and the probability 
that in course of time, mankind will arrive at comparative perfection. 

The two young men listened attentively to the old man's discourse— 
they never before having heard the like. Jose" saw clearly, that the 



INTRODUCTION. 29 

recluse had got his ideas through experience and deep reflection, while 
John concluded that no man could speak as he had done, unless he was 
supernaturally inspired. He said to himself " certainly this man is a 
prophet ! I will question him, concerning myself." 

" My worthy host," said John to the old man, " I must confess that I 
have never heard a man speak more startling truths than you have 
done, — you certainly must possess the power of prevision and prophecy. 
I beg of you, if it be so, that you will try your powers upon me, and 
tell me what will be my career and end of life." 

"Young man," answered the recluse, with a serious candour, "you 
are mistaken in your estimate of me. I candidly tell you, that I do 
not possess the powers you speak of; nor do I make any pretensions 
thereto, and all others who assume to be such, I consider to be visionary 
enthusiasts or vile imposters. I consider it impossible with any person 
on earth, or Spirit above, to see a thing that does not exist. Future 
events, we all know, do not exist, and as such, they consequently can 
not be seen or foreseen. But I will tell you what it is possible to do. 
A man is capable of speaking of probabilities, according to the know- 
ledge he may have of the thing in question. For instance : from the 
insight I have of you, I can state some things that may probably occur 
to you during your lifetime." 

" What may they be?" eagerly inquired John. 

"They are to this effect," answered the recluse: "you will live a 
visionary life, — meeting many disappointments and disgusts, at what 
you will consider the perversity and wickedness of the world ; because 
it does not prove to be such as you wish it or expect it to be. You will 
live an erratic and unsocial career, for your nature will find no pleasure 
in the general society of men. This disposition will lead you into many 
difficulties, — your mind will become unhinged, and your end will be 
soon and unpleasant." 

" Indeed!" exclaimed John, as he reclined himself back, with an air 
of one disappointed and mortified. " Your estimation of my career is 
not very promising or flattering ; — however, there is one comfort, — you 
do not give them as facts, but only as probabilities. But what say you 
of my companion ?" he added, as he pointed to Jose\ "Can you not 
say something better of him?" 

" With regard to your companion," said the recluse, as he gazed into 
the eyes of Jos6, "there may be something said of him of a very ex- 
traordinary nature." 

" If you can foresee anything that wjll add to my happiness, or of 
that of my fellow men, I pray you let me hear it," observed Jose\ 

" I perceive, my dear youth," responded the old man, as he continued 
his gaze upon Jose — at the same time feeling of his hand, fingers and 
wrist with some mysterious motive, — "that within you lies latent a 
great power, which, when brought into action, will influence the minds, 
and act upon the bodies of your fellow men, — producing the most ex- 
traordinary and astounding results." 

Jose" started, and a tremulous emotion passed through him, at this 
declaration of the recluse. 

"I mean," continued the latter, "that there is within you a mine of 



30 INTRODUCTION. 

nervous power, which, when exercised upon your fellow men, will be 
capable of ameliorating many of their miseries, by producing the cures 
of their bodily diseases, and mitigating the severities of others ; at the 
same time, it will enable you to command their minds, — to lead them 
from their errors and vices, to better conditions and understandings. " 

"Oh! blessed will be the day, if that shall prove true!" exclaimed 
Jos6, as he sprang forward and seized the hand of the old man, which 
he pressed fervently from the impulse of his joyful excitement. " Make 
me acquainted with its nature, and convince me of its truth ; then I 
shall be one of the happiest of men. 

" There is a principle or power that pervades all animated nature, — 
by some, termed life, — by others, spirit," observed the old man. " This 
power is not the same in all beings, especially in man. In some, it is 
weak, in others, it is very strong. Some men who possess this power 
in an extraordinary degree, are capable of acting upon their weaker 
fellows, producing good or evil effects, as their dispositions direct them 
to act. The nature of the effects produced are very various ; but when 
this power is exercised with benevolent designs, much good can be 
produced to our fellow men, in curing certain diseases, and influencing 
the mind in the right direction of virtue." 

"Oh, most worthy Sir!" exclaimed Jos£, — his eyes beaming with 
enthusiasm and rapture ; "make me sensible how I possess this power, 
for my delight of life is to do good to my fellow men." 

" The power, as I said, lies latent within you," replied the recluse. 
"It requires some other external power to arouse it; and when once 
brought into action, it will continue in force during your life. I have 
the happiness to possess that power to a certain extent ; and I think, if 
you give your consent, I shall be enabled to call forth that which lies 
latent within you." 

Jose gave his consent, when he and the recluse rose from their seats, 
while John regarded them in speechless surprise as he remained in his 
place. The recluse desired Jose" to stand erect against the wall of the 
hut, from whom he removed his garments, leaving his neck and breast 
bare ; then placing his right hand upon the top of his head, and taking 
his left hand in his other, they remained in this position for some mi- 
nutes. Then he placed his right hand upon the back of his neck, and 
his left upon his breast, — remaining thus for some minutes. Then he 
placed both hands upon the sides of his head, and moved them down 
to the soles of his feet ; this he repeated several times. Then lie placed 
both hands upon his shoulders, and Slowly moved them down his arms 
to his fingers, which he repeated several times. At the commencement 
of this process, Jose" felt a sudden icy chill pass through him, which 
was succeeded by a glow of heat, and a tingling sensation all over him 
externally. All his vital organs seemed to expand and acquire force ;— 
his physical and moral energy seemed to become greater. 

" Now !" said the recluse, as he terminated the last mentioned actions, 
" let us see whether my anticipations are correct or not." 

He then told Jose* to stand in front of John — to fix upon his eyes his 
own steadfast gaze, and to will in his own mind that John should sleep, 
and then he gave directions to perform certain manipulations,— all of 



INTRODUCTION. 31 

which Jose" performed accordingly. The result was as the recluse an- 
ticipated. John regarded his companion with an incredulous smile, 
as though he doubted the theory of the recluse ; — but soon his eyelids 
drooped, — the smile vanished from his lips, — his countenance became 
pale, and the relaxed state of his muscles gave evidence that he was no 
longer conscious of external things. 

" He sleeps !" remarked the recluse. 

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Jose*, as he regarded the result with aston- 
ishment, and felt for the old man a degree of profound reverence. 

" This sleep," added the recluse, "is very different from the ordinary 
one of mortals. The mind and all the powers of life are totally abstract- 
ed from the corporeal senses, and his individual existence is quiescent 
to all influences, save that of your own. In fact, his body is totally 
insensible, and his spirit is subject to your will in all respects — as I will 
convince you." 

The recluse then took a small stick, with which he beat the sleeper 
over the shoulders and legs, without eliciting any signs of sensibility 
or motions. Then he gave Jose" some directions how to exercise his 
will-power over him. Jose then stood in front of the sleeper, and with 
the concentrated energies of his will, commanded the latter to arise and 
follow him. Immediately the sleeping John arose and stood erect; 
then, with a fearless step, he followed Jose" around the hut, — passed 
out of the door- way, and for a few minutes walked to and fro in front 
of it ; then returning to the hut, he was restored to his former position 
by the side of the fire. 

Then Jos6, having received instructions from the recluse, by certain 
counter manipulations restored John to his former state of wakefulness 
and sensibility. As soon as he had recovered his consciousness, he 
looked around him with astonishment, and said " Well ! this is strange ! 
— I really believe that I have slept." 

" You have," responded the recluse. 

" But did I sleep from my own nature? — or from any power exercised 
over me by my companion?" inquired John. 

" You slept" answered the recluse, " through the influence of a power 
possessed by your companion, which was existing in a latent state 
within him, and which I aroused to action. This power he has exercised 
over you, — causing your body to become insensible to touch, and your 
mind and life-powers to concentrate themselves, yet to become subser- 
vient to his will." 

When the recluse had given this explanation, John raised his eyes to 
JosS, in which was an expression of reverence and awe ; then raising 
his hands and clasping them together, he exclaimed exultingly, "Glory 
to the most High ! His will is made manifest to me ! My suspicions 
and anticipations are now become realities! The prophets have not 
spoken in vain assumptions; but their words are true!" He then 
rushed from the hut. 

When John had left, the recluse observed " the conduct of your com- 
panion is very strange." 

u It is, to those who know not his nature as well as T do," replied .lost'. 
11 He is naturally a great enthusiast, which has impelled him to gather 



32 INTRODUCTION. 

up many chimerical and fanciful notions. From what he has just ex- 
perienced, some new fanciful notion has just started in his mind, con- 
cerning me; but I will reason with him to-morrow, and check its 
farther growth." 

The recluse and Jose* passed some time discoursing upon the nature 
of the power newly developed in the latter. Full particulars were given 
by the recluse, according to his experience of its application to the 
benefit of men ; — the kind of diseases that would come under its in- 
fluence, — its mode of operation on the mind and body — and many other 
traits of its nature : to all of which Jose listened with intense interest 
and joy. Time became far advanced into the night, when as John did 
not return, they reclined themselves to repose. 

About the break of day, John entered the hut ; seeming to be much 
exhausted, as though he had passed the night in wrestling with intense 
emotions. The two companions then, after thanking their host, took 
leave of him, and departed for their homes. 

As they went along, Jose* imparted to John all that had taken place 
the previous evening, concerning the induced sleep of the latter, and 
some important information he had acquired besides; by which he 
endeavoured to impress his companion with the idea, that the power 
he possessed was a natural one, though not possessed by all men. John 
listened attentively without responding ix word ; but towards the con- 
clusion of Jose's explanation, he shook his head, and looked up to his 
friend with an expression that seemed to doubt what he had heard. 

"You seem to doubt what I have been saying," observed Jose* as he 
caught the glance of his companion. 

"I do, in one respect," replied John. "Your explanations of this 
mysterious power may be all true, excepting, as I think your inference 
— that it is natural to man; which I doubt." 

"Then how do you view it?" inquired Josg, with surprise. 

"I have my ideas upon the subject," replied John; "but I do not 
wish' to state them now. Let us cease to speak of it, and hasten home." 

The two companions then continued their route in silence — each being 
absorbed in his own thoughts. As they came within a short distance 
of Nazareth, they entered an humble habitation by the road-side, to see 
one of the neighbouring families. 

The people were poor, and the wife and mother was afflicted, with 
severe neuralgic pains. As soon as Jose* perceived the case of the poor 
woman, a thought struck him that this would be a good opportunity to 
test his mysterious power in the cure of diseases ; he therefore resolved 
to make the attempt. Calling the woman to him, he addressed her in a 
soothing strain touching her malady ; and when he perceived that he 
had wrought her mind to a befitting tone, he manipulated her from 
head to foot, exerting the full energy of his will to scatter the disease, 
and gently touched with his fingers the most afflicted parts. In a few 
seconds, the woman declared herself relieved of her pains, and in a few 
minutes, she said she was cured. Unspeakable was the astonishment 
of the family, and great was their joy and gratitude. The eyes of Jose* 
were lit up with great pleasure ; while John stood with eyes fixed upon 
his companion. 



INTRODUCTION. 33 

" Come John, let us depart," said Jos6, as he took the latter by the 
wrist and broke the spell that was upon him. They then passed into 
the road : but John, instead of walking by the side of JosG, followed a 
little in the rear. 

" Why do you linger behind, John?" inquired Jose" of his companion. 

" It is not becoming in me to place myself on an equality with you 
any longer," replied John, in a troubled voice. "Hitherto we have 
been familiar companions— bound to each other by the bonds of friend- 
ship ; but now a line of distinction must be drawn between us. Our 
companionship must give place to that of master and servant, and my 
friendship must be replaced by love, reverence and duty." 

" By the Holy of Holies !*' exclaimed Jos6, as he regarded his com- 
panion with the greatest astonishment. "Are you crazy, John ! — whom 
do you take me to be?" 

"The truth must no longer be withheld," replied John seriously; — 
"the Lord has made his will and ways manifest to me this day, and 
the words of the prophet are come true, when he said * Behold my 
servant whom I uphold ; — mine elect, in whom I am delighted, — I have 
put my spirit upon him.' Yes, Jos6, — you are the blessed one of whom 
the prophet has been speaking. That mysterious power you have of 
doing good, is supernatural, which is confirmatory of the truth, I can 

no longer doubt of your being the " 

£ John paused, as though he were afraid to utter the next word that 
would have completed his declaration. Then Jose* seized him by the 
upper part of his tunic, and gazed intently into his eyes for a few mo- 
ments, and then said "the what?" 

" The Messiah !" responded John, humbly and reverently. 

There was a pause in their discourse, as the two youths regarded each 
other for some time with great intentness. The expression of John's 
countenance being humility and reverence ; while that of JosS, in the 
commencement, seemed to be astonishment and displeasure, at what 
he considered John's infatuation. But as he continued his gaze, the 
perception broke upon him that John was no longer of sane mind ; — 
then the sternness of his looks relaxed, assuming one of commiseration. 

" John !" exclaimed Jose" at length, as he released hold of the former, 
— " you certainly must be crazy, to entertain so preposterous a thought* 
The foolish books you make your studies have unhinged your mind. 
I beg of you — if you wish to be my friend and companion for the future 
— that you will never mention to me or any one else, the like again." 

John made no response ; but with a sullen air and dissatisfied feel- 
ings, he followed his friend on their return to the village. 

This event placed a restraint upon the friendly intercourse of the two 
young men; so that from that time, their intercourse was much re- 
stricted. John confined himself to his studies, and Jose" attended to 
his father's business. Nothing was known among the neighbours why 
the two young men were not so friendly as usual ; — but by some means, 
it became known that Jose" possessed a wonderful power of curing and 
mitigating certain diseases, — which soon spread through the village, 
and around the neighbourhood. Jose" was accordingly besought to 
i exercise his power to the benefit of the afllicted; the result was, that 



34 INTRODUCTION. 

many diseased were made sound, and many others were relieved ; by 
which he gained many friends bound to him in gratitude. Some per- 
sons there were, who became jealous of his skill and popularity, and 
fearful of losing their own influence, thought proper to thwart and 
misrepresent him ;— so . that while some were giving him all due 
praise, others were sarcastically hinting that he was a doubtful or bad 
character. 

This state of circumstances surrounded Jose" until he had arrived at 
the age of manhood,— when an event happened, which very much 
changed them. Joseph the carpenter — his reputed father, died. He had 
been prosperous at his business during his residence at Nazareth — one 
main cause of which, was the industry and general good conduct of 
Jos6, so that he had accumulated some wealth, which he had the good 
sense to divide between his wife and Jos€. 

Soon after the burial of his father, Jose" converted all his means into 
money, and with the permission of his mother, he resolved to travel 
into distant countries, to see the world, and gain knowledge. His 
arrangements were soon made ; but before taking his departure, he had 
a friendly interview with his former companion, John. They dis- 
coursed long together. John was sorely distressed upon this occasion. 
He ventured to express once more to Jose\ that he believed him to be 
the true Messiah as spoken of by the Prophets. He begged Jose* to 
acknowledge himself to be such, and to let him declare it to the world ; 
but Jos6 remained inflexible to all his beseechings in that respect. At 
length they parted, with the compromised understanding that after a 
number of years, when Jose should return from his travels, if they 
should accord in their general views, they would go forth together, and 
preach to the world Reform and Repentance. 

Jose* then set out upon his travels. He visited Egypt, Greece and 
Italy, and some other countries. After some years, when he was about 
thirty years of age, he returned to Judea ; when at Jerusalem he met 
John, — they soon after made their appearance in public, under con 
ditions as will be explained hereafter." 



" I have now, friend Alexander," resumed the Spirit, Saul, "given 
you the early history of Jesus of Nazareth, which was imparted to me 
by himself at the time he visited me in my exile from the happy Spirit- 
ual societies. I shall now, with the assistance of Judas, give you his 
after history — that tragic narrative in which I and Judas were the prin- 
cipal actors. I shall not pretend to give you the incidents in just detail 
and connection, so as to form a unity of the whole ; but will deliver 
them as they occur to my memory : nor shall I take up your time in 
description, more than is actually necessary. My intent will be to 
furnish you with all the material facts and scenes ; but leave the rest 
to your own taste, skill, learning and prudence, to make any addition, 
illustration or embellishment you may think necessary, to produce a 
united and comprehensive true history, such as will be easy of compre- 



be, 



INTRODUCTION. 35 

hension, and agreeable to the people you live among. When you shall 
have accomplished this task, you will then issue it to the world; 
calling upon all Christendom to read it, that they may no longer liv© 
in error and misconception of the truths therein stated. The Christian 
clergy, after reading my historical revelations, will no longer have a 
just excuse in maintaining a system of baneful doctrines, which I, Saul, 
expose and denounce. 

The task I have assigned to you is a laborious one for a man in your 
circumstances ; — but be not discouraged. It is a debt of justice due to 
humanity that I owe, and shall be enabled to pay through your labours. 
You will confer great benefits upon your fellow men ; and though you 
may not meet with a just reward in your mortal life, be assured that 
you will obtain it in the world of Spirits.' ' 

" Before I proceed to my task, I wish to ask a question," I said to my 
communicating Spirit. 

" What is it?" demanded Saul. 

"I wish to know," I said, " what has become of the Spirit Jesus." 

"After his kind visit to me," replied Saul, " in which he made me 
acquainted with many secret points of his history that was not known 
to any other Spirit or mortal, he took leave of me, and soon after, was 
translated to the highest sphere of beauty and bliss ; since then, I have 
not seen or heard of him." 



According to the desire and commands of the Spirits, Saul and Judas, 
,1 had about forty communications with them, in which they presented 
me a series of facts and incidents concerning the history of Jesus, during 
the latter part of his career on earth, and the parts they performed 
therein. 

These communications were given to me by the Spirits taking pos- 
session of my mind, about one hour in every four and twenty ; when, 
usurping all my mental powers and functions, they produced a series 
of visions similar to beautiful and well connected dreams. Scenery, 
characters or personages, dialogues and actions, transpired in regular 
succession and order, like a performance upon a theatrical stage. I 
was the only spectator, — though I had no other conception of myself, 
than that of a conscious perceptive essence, with the power of perceiving 
pie hidden feelings and unspoken thoughts of the visionary personages 
before me, the Medium. 



THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

JESUS OF NAZAKETH 



■visioixr IFinST. 

Tlie mystical powers of the Spirits descended upon me, — My inward-self 
gradually withdrew from my corporeal senses; when I became a 
conscious existing essence, without the semblance of person or form, 
— incapable of thought, and void of all rememberance of the past, — 
My being seemed to consist of a passive consciousness, exquisitely 
sensible to all that transpired before the SouVs perceptive eye, — At 
first, a greyish mist passed before my vision, which soon gave place 
to a bright light, that presented to view a scene of the earth, where 
certain persons enacted a part of life's true history; which opens 
the series of revelations about to be disclosed, — The voice of Saul 
was heard at intervals, in explanation of what I saw, — the nature 

of ivhich is detailed below, 

% 

About the sixteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, emperor of 
Rome ; when Judea was suffering under the tyrannical sway of Pontus 
Pilate, her fifth Roman Governor, two men on horseback were travel- 
ling along the road that skirts the valley and plains, along the western 
bank of the river Jordan.' They were proceeding due south. On their 
right were the fertile plains, with the barren, gloomy Judean mountains 
in the distant back ground,— the latter seeming to converge towards the 
river, as the travellers progressed on their way. On the left was tho 
river, fringed with the graceful oleander, the drooping willow and fern- 
like tamarask, interlaced with many vines, that embellished the scene 
with their many flowers of crimson, yellow and blue. Beyond tho 
river, in the east, was the tall, rugged line of gloomy, barren, dark 
brown mountains of Ammon. As the travellers proceeded on their 
course, the river gradually enlarged in width, and became divided into 
several channels, with several small islands intervening, which were 
covered with canes, rushes, briars and thistles. 

At length, the course of the river was obscured by a wide extent of 
marsh, which was covered by a dense growth of reeds, canes and rushes. 
The travellers now found themselves at the mouth of the Jordan, which 
opened through various channels upon that scene of physical and fa- 
bulous terrors, the lake Asphaltis, or the Dead Sea. In the course- of a 
short time, a scene of solemn grandeur burst upon their view. The 

» 37 



38 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

great expanse of bitter waters lay stretched out before them motionless, 
like a basin of molten lead. The mountains curved outward in the form 
of an amphitheatre :— those on the west gradually sloping to the bed of 
the lake, while those on the east rose almost perpendicular, without 
a vestige of vegetation, or sign of life. At a slight elevation from the 
waters, there was a thin, purple haze; but the sky was completely 
cloudless, through which the burning rays of a mid-day sun poured 
down unobstructed. Not a breath of air was stirring — not a living 
thing was to be seen,— not a sound was heard but the tread of the tra- 
vellers' horses : — all was as silent and inactive as the imagination could 
picture the valley, leading to the realms of death. 

When the travellers came to the open view of the lake, they halted 
for a few moments, and cast their eyes around the scene ; but no visible 
emotions of admiration or terror were depicted upon their countenances, 
as would have been the case with many others, under the same circum- 
stances. To it, they seemed indifferent, as though the scene was not 
new to them : they looked rather for the route they were to pursue on 
their journey. With a few observations to each other, they turned their 
course to the right, leaving the lake and approaching the base of the 
mountains on the west. After travelling some time over a loose bed of 
pebbles and boulders, they entered a ravine, which was walled in by 
perpendicular masses of limestone rock: between which, ran a small 
stream of fresh water, bordered by several stunted trees, and jungles 
of reeds, canes and vines. 

As the bottom of this ravine was strewn with fragments of rock, that 
had fallen from the sides of the mountains, and the debris of rushes, 
canes and branches of trees, the progress of the travellers was of ne- 
cessity slow and difficult ; but in the course of time, they arrived at 
a spot which was more open and less encumbered. A willow tree of 
more than ordinary stature, with its delicate branches, was gracefully 
drooping over the margin of the stream. The water under its protect- 
ing shade, seemed to run its course with crystal clearness and refreshing 
coolness. For several feet around this tree was a mossy verdure, so 
pleasant and inviting, from its rarity in the barren wilderness, that the 
travellers' attentions were arrested, and they halted. 

The travellers presented many points of great difference in appear- 
ance, though not of absolute contrast. One of them rode a beautiful 
light grey steed of great mettle. He was the younger of the two, who 
seemed to have just arrived at the full developement of young, vigorous 
manhood ; — perhaps his age was thirty, or a little over. He was smaller 
than common in stature, but was well formed ; — his limbs indicating 
great strength and activity. His complexion was much fairer than was 
common in that country, being a mixture of white and red, denoting a 
preponderance of the sanguine temperament. His features denoted 
that he was of that type, from which nearly all bold, daring, brave and 
ambitious »men have sprung. His forehead was high and expansive ; 
his nose, long, and almost perpendicular with the former ; his mouth, 
small ; lips, thin and sensitive of emotion. His eyes were dark brown, 
expressive of great intellectual energy, and a restless disposition ; as 
though the spirit within was dissatisfied with its surroundings, and 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. otf 

desirous of finding a sphere more genial to its nature. His beard and 
moustache were dark brown ; small, but neatly trimmed— his hair 
being of the same color, hung in massive curls around his neck and 
shoulders, confined around the head by a band of dark cloth, worked 
with threads of gold, from which a purple cloth passed over his head, 
and falling over his left side. His under-garments were of fine white 
wool, reaching from the neck to the knees ; over which he wore a white 
silk tunic, reaching to the middle of the leg, and fastened around the 
waist with a girdle of several bright colors. His legs were covered 
with buskins of red cloth, richly embroidered witn threads of gold ; 
and his feet covered with sandals. Over his left shoulder was thrown a 
mantle of green cloth, which he drew around him as temperature or 
occasions required. Altogether, his dress denoted gaiety and richness ; 
befitting one whose worldly means were far above those of the common 
lot of mankind. His air and demeanour denoted him to be, not only 
superior to his companion in appearance, but also, superior in his self- 
estimation and standing. 

The other traveller seemed to be about the middle age of life. He 
was of darker complexion than his companion, with reddish-brown 
hair, in thick, short curling locks, with short, thick beard and mous- 
tache of a lighter tinge. Deep arching eye-brows of the same hue, 
overshadowed deep sunken dark eyes, that twinkled with shrewd 
intelligence of the world. His forehead was broad and oval, projecting 
over his aquiline nose ; his mouth, large, and lips, thick, that indicated 
a disposition prone to sensuous and other vicious indulgences. 

The shape of his garments were similar to those of his companion, 
but more humble in their pretensions. His head being covered with 
a red cloth, fastened around with plaited cords of silk ; his tunic was of 
dark brown cloth, fastened around the waist with a leathern belt A 
grey mantle hung over his left shoulder— his legs being covered with 
leathern buskins, and his feet with coarse sandals. He rode a black 
horse of verv strong build, that not only carried the rider, but likewise 
a large leathern bag containing provisions, and other conveniences of 
travel, which was strapped over his back ; so that the contents balanced 
on either side, behind the rider. The general appearance of this person 
indicated that he was subordinate to his fellow traveller, as a servant 
or bondman. Though his deportment was humble and submissive, 
teere were at times certain glances of the eye, and motions of his upper 
Up, which indicated that he considered his position a degraded one, and 
that he would rebel against his master, if he had the power to do so. 
Such were the two travellers in personal appearance. 

Having arrived at the verdant spot, and viewing the inviting shade 
around the willow tree by the running stream, as before mentioned, 
they halted; when the younger of the two, with an expression of plea- 
sure on his countenance, turned to his companion and observed M Let 
us alight at this spot, Judas, to rest and refresh ourselves." 

" The words of my worthy master shall be obeyed," responded the 
other, who was addressed as Judas, as he placed his right hand upon 
his breast, and reverently bowed his head; then instantly springing 
from his horse, he led it in company with the grey his master rod*- 



40 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

who by this time, had dismounted also — to the patch of grassy verdure 
around the tree, to graze at their pleasure. 

The younger traveller then spread his mantle upon the verdant spot, 
on which he reclined himself* with his head resting on his hand. In 
this position, he soon seemed to be absorbed in deep thought. In the 
meantime, the servant Judas having taken his leathern bag from his 
horse, soon emptied it of its contents, which he proceeded to place in 
order for his master's repast. He spread a white napkin upon the 
ground, upon which he placed several barley-cakes; then, unfolding 
another cloth, he exposed to view a joint of roast sheep, which he placed 
by the bread. Then came preserved figs and other fruit, which found 
a proper position on the cloth ; then he poured from a leathern bottle 
some delicious wine, made from the palm tree, from the celebrated wine 
country of Jerico — some of which in a silver goblet, he placed ready for 
his master. This done, he took another goblet, ran to the stream and 
filled it with water, and quickly returning, he placed it along-side of 
the wine; then, perceiving that every thing was ready, he bowed in 
reverence before his master, and said in a tone of humility : 

" Will my master ba pleased to partake of the repast? — all things are 
prepared for his will and pleasure." He then retreated a few steps, 
where he stood in attendance, with his arms crossed on his breast while 
his master should satisfy himself with the food before him, according 
to the usual custom of inferiors before their superiors. Little did he 
think at the moment, of the extraordinary turn relations between him 
and his master were about to take, that would break through all hu- 
miliating customs, changing his position, and reversing his feelings. 

When Judas invited his master to the repast, the latter started sud- 
denly from the spell of deep reflection, into a consciousness of his true 
position. Arousing himself from his recumbent posture, he seated 
himself in front of the refections, and taking the goblet of water he 
drank it off at a draught ; then presenting the goblet to Judas, he told 
him to re-fill it. The latter immediately obeyed; but when he was 
about to replace it, the master said " Take it to thy own side, Judas : — 
drink, and let us partake of this food." 

Judas looked up to his master, with doubt and surprise depicted on 
his countenance. He doubted whether he had heard his master's words 
aright, or whether the latter was serious in his commands — which Saul 
observing, remarked: 

" Be not surprised at what I request of thee, Judas, — I am serious in 
what I say, and have good intent. Join me in this repast, and think 
not of the breach of customs, or the relation between us." 

" Does my worthy master think that I, his humble inferior and bond- 
man, shall thus presume?" Judas timidly responded. 

"I know, Judas, that thou art my bondman," rejoined the master; 
"and thy objections are considered just and prudent in one of thy 
position, by the people of the world : but in considering thyself my 
inferior, I know thou beliest thyself, for thou dost not think so. Thou 
hast too much intellect not to know that God made us all equal, and 
that it is society which has made us unequal. Thou hast a sense and 
feeling which can quickly perceive an insult given to thee, as well as 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 41 

the humiliation of being a bondman ; — and I know,' Judas, that thou 
hast a bold heart that would resent all indignities heaped upon thee, if 
thou wert free to do battle." 

"Oh, master! — master Saul!" exclaimed Judas in a piteous tone of 
voice, with painful emotions depicted on his countenance, as thus he 
added: "Why has my master chosen this course to try his servant? 
My master has spoken the truth. But why drag from my mind my 
most secret thoughts, and rip from my heart my most sacred feelings ? 
Is it to cover me with new indignities and sufferings?" 

"No, Judas," responded Saul — such being the name of Judas' s mas- 
ter — in a tone of sympathy and kindness. " I wish not to add to thy 
sufferings in any way ; but to relieve thee, and give thee an opportunity 
to assert thy sense of right and manhood, which I know to exist within 
thee. I have been long aware, that thy relation to me as bondman is 
galling to thy feelings; and I am sensible that thy merits deserve a 
better lot. Finding myself influenced through these view* and feelings, 
I have resolved to ameliorate thy condition ; and perhaps in the course 
of a short time, I shall accord the full extent of thy wishes. When I cast 
my eyes around this rude scene of nature, and view the stupendous 
walls of rock on either side of us, I cannot help being impressed with 
the idea how small a thing I am, when compared with these majestic 
masses. Then I cannot help seeing the vanity and inconsistency of 
my Lording it over my fellow atom." 

These sentiments were delivered by Saul with apparent seriousness 
of manner, and humble tone of voice, while Judas regarded him with 
increased astonishment ; his mind being perplexed between hopes and 
doubts of his master's sincerity. 

" Come Judas," Saul added ; " we are alone in this wild solitude, with 
none but Jehovah to look down upon us : we are equal in his sight ; — 
let us then put aside customs and social relations, and be equal to each 
other for the present. Come,— join me in this repast; for I have much 
to tell thee, and much counsel to ask of thee." 

" I have always been true to the master, since I have been his bond- 
man," Judas mildly replied, in his usual mode of addressing his su- 
perior in the third person, — such being the custom among servants and 
bondmen in his time and country. " The master has only to command, 
and I to obey." 

Judas, then with some degree of diffidence, seated himself on the 
ground with his legs crossed, opposite his master, with the provisions 
spread between them ; when Saul taking a cake of bread, broke it in 
two, — one-half of which he presented to Judas, at the same time a small 
vessel containing salt. This ancient ceremony being gone through, 
they both began to eat. 

The mind of Saul fell into a train of reflection; while Judas was 
occupied — independent of his eating — with the thoughts and new feel- 
ings consequent upon his new position: so that nothing was said fox 
the first few minutes by either of them. 

It was difficult for Judas to guess what was passing in the mind and 
breast of Saul — so various were the expressions of his countenance. 
Sometimes it would seem very gravo; sometimes lively, — sometimes 



42 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

there would be a smile upon his lips, accompanied by a general ex- 
pression of good nature ; sometimes a smile of scorn, accompanied by 
an air of hauteur. At length, shaking off his mood, he declared that 
he had eaten enough; and then desired Judas to pass him the wine 
cup : the latter complied, and at the same time declared that his hunger 
was satisfied. The other goblet was then filled, which Saul presented 
to Judas with seeming courtesy; — then their manners to each other 
began to assume the appearance of true, fraternal friendship. 

Saul was a native of Cilicia: — born in the opulent city of Tarsus, 
where his father, Bathurst, an industrious tradesman, had accumulated 
much wealth, by the humble occupation of tent-making. Saul being 
the only child of his parents, was sent to Jerusalem, to obtain the best 
education that could be obtained in those days, where he remained 
under the tuition of Gamaliel, a celebrated man, until he was about 
twenty years of age, when he was recalled home by his father, who 
constrained his son to learn and superintend the business by which he 
had made his wealth. 

This course of proceeding was very much disliked by young Saul, 
who, during his studies in the Great City, had imbibed too many 
exalted ideas from his proud, wealthy and high-minded associates, to 
fit him for the humble calling of his father. However, there was no 
alternative. Saul was obliged to submit to his father's will, or risk his 
displeasure and evil consequences, — the latter he resolved he would not 
do. Thus he reluctantly pursued his humble calling for several years, 
while his mind would be soaring and fluttering in the realms of fan- 
ciful ambition ; achieving in imagination deeds of daring and priceless 
worth. Wealth and social respect Saul was enabled to obtain; but 
that was not sufficient to quench the thirst of his ambitious soul : — 
Power and Fame were the greatest attractions in life to him, and the 
greatest compensation for toil and death. 

Thus Saul continued to pine after a more congenial sphere, wherein 
his ambitious nature would be enabled to develope itself, and his soul 
to imbibe the flattering comments of men. At the age of thirty, both 
his parents were dead, when he found himself at length, free to act 
according to his own will. 

Saul soon converted the wealth he inherited from his father, into 
shekels of gold and silver; when having made all necessary prepa- 
rations, he bid adieu to his native city, and turned in the direction of 
Jerusalem, accompanied by one servant. He was determined to seek 
new scenes and adventures, wherein his restless spirit and ambitious 
desires would enable him to find congenial employ. 

His servant, Judas Iscariot, was once a man of good estate: but 
owing to vicious and reckless conduct in his youth, his dependance 
became squandered, and he by some means became indebted to the 
father of Saul. The debt remained unpaid for some years, when at 
length, the creditor becoming impatient, he laid claim to the person oj 
Judas until the debt should be paid ; and when Saul's father died, Saul 
inherited the claim, in conformity with the laws and customs of the 
country : thus Judas became the bondman of Saul. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 43 

Judas when a youth, though careless and vicious in general, possessed 
some virtuous qualities. He was generous, liberal and benevolent ; — 
but after he had squandered his substance, and began to feel the ad- 
versities of his changed position, his nature became changed; for he 
gradually became the reverse of that which he formerly was. He 
considered his former virtues to have been the causes of his calamities, 
— he therefore closed his heart and mind to all principles and con- 
siderations of honesty, liberality and benevolence. The acquisition 
of wealth by any means in his power, was the object of his schemes 
and toils. With gold in his possession, he thought he could once more 
become a freeman !— with gold, he could once more be nappy ! Such 
was Judas. 

Saul having drank his goblet of wine, replaced the vessel, and then, 
with a countenance expressive of sincerity and candour, proceeded to 
address Judas. 

" Judas, it will be unnecessary to explain the causes and conditions 
by which the relation between us as master and bondman, has been 
established. These things are too well impressed upon thy mind to be 
forgotten." 

" True, master !" replied Judas, as a sudden shudder seemed to over- 
come him ; while his countenance paled, and a glance bespeaking fury 
and malignity was suddenly awakened within him, which he endea- 
voured to suppress — then turning his regard to the ground and striking 
his breast, he added "'Tistrue, — too true! to my sorrow and shame! 
Had I possessed less of generous impulse in my nature, and more of 
the worldly fox, my master would not have reminded me of my present 
degradation." 

Saul perceiving that his allusion to Judas' bondage, had produced 
within the latter, bitter feelings, assumed an expression of sympathy 
on his countenance, and observed in a soothing tone of voice : " Believe 
me, Judas, — I do not speak of this as a vain man, who blazes forth his 
claims over another, whom human laws and unfortunate circumstances 
have placed within his power. No : nor is it with any intent of arousing 
within thee any painful feeling, that I have spoken, — but it is of ne- 
cessity that I mention it, as it is the basis of that which I am about to 
say concerning thy welfare." 

The irritability of Judas subsided. He raised his eyes to his master 
with an expression that seemed to say • I wish I could believe in thy 
sincerity : but I still doubt thee.' After a few moments had elapsed, 
in which the master and bondman regarded each other, endeavouring 
to discover the inward man ; Judas replied " Proceed master, — Judas 
will listen in humble attention." 

"To bring this matter as fairly to thy comprehension as possible." 
said Saul in resuming — " I will state the results of my thoughts, without 
stating any preliminaries as I intended to do. It is my wish and in- 
tentions — provided it shall meet with thy wishes and approbation— so to 
change our relation to each other and society, as to make thee an agent 
to do my bidding, on a free and equal standing \vith myself, instead of 
rendering me servile obedience as a bondman, and to the rest of the 
wdfld, thou shalt be a freeman." 



44 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

As soon as Saul had spoken these words, Judas sprang to his feet ; 
his whole frame quivering with an intense excitement. Clasping his 
hands together above him for a moment or two^ he seemed to be 
uttering thanks to the Great Jehovah ; then suddenly throwing himself 
upon one knee, he took up the border of his master's tunic, which he 
pressed to his lips and ejaculated " Master !— kind and worthy master ! 
Let Judas be not deceived in the words of his master ! Let him be 
convinced that such is his master's will and resolution ! Let the claims 
of bondage be removed from his person; and then his heart will be 
forever the true slave of gratitude to his master !" 

" Calm thy emotions my faithful Judas," returned Saul, mildly, "and 
listen to me. That I am sincere in what I have said, the reasons I shall 
adduce will convince thee." 

After a little while, Judas managed to tranquilize his transport, when 
he resumed his seat, and Saul continued his discourse. 

" Thou art acquainted, Judas, with the history and the conditions of 
my late parents. Thou hast seen also something of my nature, to know 
how incompatible was the course of life I was constrained to lead, in 
conformity with their desires and commands. In fact, my daily 
routine was burdensome and painful to me ; though in obedience to my 
father, and the prospect of inheriting his wealth, I forced myself to 
pursue it. My life was worse to me than a bondage : for I felt an im- 
pulse within me for other occupation than that of tent-making. My 
ambition and ideas pointed to something of greater significance. I 
longed to launch out upon the world to see what part I could play 
among the great, the honored, and the powerful men, who like giants, 
stalk to and fro, looking down upon their inferior fellow mortals, — 
feeling an exulting pride in their own greatness. As such waa the 
nature of my desires, an intuitive idea told me that such would be my 
destiny." 

" No doubt the Spirit of Jehovah has stirred up the soul of my master 
to some great deed or career, that shall fill the four corners of the earth 
with his greatness. If so, I know he is capable of fulfilling the same 
from the depth of his mind, and the nobleness of his principles," ob- 
served Judas in a low tone of voice, and with gravity of countenance. 

Saul smiled his thanks for Judas' approval and good opinion, and 
then resumed — " Now my parents rest in peace in their tombs — having 
left me their wealth as a reward for my filial obedience. I have no 
longer a restriction to the bend of my wishes ; — I am now free, Judas, 
as thou wert once,— -and shalt be again, if thou wilt accept of my pro- 
posals." Saul then suddenly reached forward, when seizing Judas by 
the wrist, he stared at him with great intensity of gaze, as he resumed 
— " Judas, we will both be freemen ! We will both act together, and 
share equally in the results of our actions." Judas started, and looked 
upon his master in astonishment ; for the manner and words of Saul 
had somewhat confused him. "Yes Judas; thou shalt no longer be a 
bondman. I feel the want of a trusty agent, and faithful companion, 
to whom I can entrust my secret thoughts and feelings— who can aid 
me in my projects, adventures and interests— who wills plan and execute 
for me in my absence as well as in my presence. Say, Judas, wilt thou 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 45 

change thy present relation to me, for the one I propose ? Thou shalt 
be declared free in society, and shalt be equal with me in my presence. 
Thou shalt have the use of my wealth according to thy wants and 
desires; and after a while, the document of bondage I hold against 
thee, shall be put into thy hands. Now speak, Judas — wilt thou accept 
of my proposal?" 

" Master, I accept!" answered Judas, who with difficulty could utter 
the words, so great was his astonishment and emotion. Then raising 
his hand above him, he added "And before the Great Jehovah, I declare 
to devote all my energies to my master's welfare, — to be trustworthy 
and faithful." 

" Then this is to be a compact understood and agreed between us," 
said Saul, as he also raised his hand, and placed the other upon his 
breast. " Now Judas, thou must not any longer address me as master ; 
nor speak in the strain of an inferior : in all respects, thou must deport 
thyself as my equal. We will now consider the object I had in view, 
that has brought me to this rocky wilderness." 

After a few minutes had elapsed, which was passed in reflection by 
Saul, and by Judas, in endeavouring to calm the excitement within him, 
which had been produced by his change of condition, Saul observed — 
" Thou must remember, Judas, that in the course of our wanderings 
a few days since, we stayed at a small village named Enon, on the 
Jordan. We saw there a collection of people, listening to a wild 
looking, middle-aged man, dressed in a very uncouth style, who was 
preaching to them some new religious doctrines : whether of his own 
conception, or any other authority, I know not; and afterwards, he 
descended to the river, followed by the people — w^hen he immersed 
some of them in the waters. Didst thou pay attention to that man ? 
They called him John the Baptist. He seemed to be a wild, religious 
enthusiast, a crazy man or knave; — I know not which he most re- 
sembled," 

" Perhaps all these qualities were combined in his character," replied 
Judas, with a scornful curl of his lip. " I noticed the man, and listened 
to his discourse." 

"After he had declared the points of his doctrine, and exhorted the 
people to observe them, didst thou observe anything peculiar that he 
said?" inquired Saul. 

"Yes Sir," answered Judas — "I noticed towards the end of the 
discourse, that he said ' There was another coming after him greater 
than he!" 

" That is the part to which I wish to bring thy attention," said Saul 
with manifest interest in the subject. " What dost thou think or under- 
stand, by that assertion of his?" 

"I think it a very probable one," replied Judas, as his lip gave 
another slight curl; "for as I think there is nothing very great in John 
the Baptist, it cannot be a very difficult matter for o)ie greater than he, 
to come forward." 

"Truly," said Saul, smiling at Judas' opinion of John the Baptist — 
"The man does not seem to have much capacity for exciting another 



46 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

man's envy :— -but that is not the point I wish to arrive at. To whom 
dost thou suppose he alluded, when he said that?" 

" I know not Sir," answered Judas ; " but I heard him allude to the 
same person when I heard him discourse at Jerusalem. He said at 
that time, ' There was one coming after him, whose sandal he was not 
fit to untie. ' I thought to myself at the time, that he was not fit to 
preach God's word, if he was not fit to untie a man's sandal." 

"I think so too," observed Saul; "but I must confess to thee, that 
he has excited my curiosity very much in respect to this unknown 
person he speaks of. I wish to find out who he is, and what is the 
connection between him and John. I have a suspicion that there is a 
deep scheme or plan laid between them, in which they both intend to 
play a part presently, either of interest or self-aggrandizement. If it 
be so, as I suspect, I wish to become acquainted with this person, and 
the subject they are going to venture on. I wish to see if I cannot take 
a part, or perform a character to my own satisfaction. With this desire, 
I have inquired where this John the Baptist can be found when he 
is not wandering over the country. I am informed that he secludes 
himself in a cave somewhere up this ravine; therefore I have come 
here to seek him, and make what discoveries I can concerning his 
unknown friend. Judas, we will now depart in search of him ; and 
for the present, thou must continue to be my servant." 



VISION SECOND. 

The Spirits' supernal powers again descended upon me, controlling my 
mental sphere according to their wills, — Another personage is 
brought to view, and other incidents enacted, initiatory to their great 
design of revelation, 

Saul and Judas, now companions under a new mutual tie of sworn 
friendship, interest and sympathy, having mounted their horses, started 
up the rocky ravine in search of the recluse, John the Baptist. Their 
progress was slow and fatiguing, as before stated — for every now and 
then they had to scramble over masses of rock, or turn aside and choose 
their way in another direction ; besides, the branch, though generally 
running along the middle of the bottom, was frequently turned from 
that course by rocks and collected debris, forming other courses in 
various directions, so that they were often obliged to plunge through 
water and mud. The ravine was about one hundred feet in width at 
this spot, with walls of gray limestone, nearly perpendicular, and of an 
immense height. The sun's rays penetrated this rocky cavity but for a 
short time during the middle of the day ; while on the mountain-tops, 
they were seen to glitter from morn to eve, when all space below bore 
the aspect of cheerless gloom. Nothing was to be seen bearing the signs 
of life, excepting the scanty, stinted vegetation along the margin of the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 47 

stream, or in the clefts and ledges in the massive walls some dwarfish 
trees stood out, which were nourished from the decomposition of the 
walls' rocky substance. 

At length the travellers came to a ledge on the south-western side of 
the ravine, about twenty feet from the base, and a few feet in width — 
above they saw the openings to several caves: there seemed to be 
no other means of mounting the ledge, than by climbing over a confused 
mass of rocks at its nearest end. 

" This must be the spot — or somewhere near by — where our recluse 
has thought fit to make his home," said Saul to Judas. "I think he 
need not fear the temptations of the world, or wiles of the Evil One 
in this locality; for any one who should venture here, would be in 
danger of breaking his legs or neck." 

"I cannot conceive," remarked Judas, "how any man can forsake 
society — bad as it is, to live in such a dreary, miserable wilderness as 
this." 

"There are several causes to account for it, Judas," replied Saul: — 
" religious fanaticism, ignorance, error and madness combined, are the 
general causes by which these poor self- deluded mortals forsake society. 
But there are many others — every one of which lack common sense, 
right reason, and the love of their fellows." 

The party now came up to the ledge, which they found impossible 
to mount with their horses, so they alighted and tethered them to a small 
tree by the branch. Then they approached the huge pile of rocks, and 
climbed from one to the other, until they reached the top of the ledge, 
where they soon discovered a narrow foot-path, winding its way among 
rocks and scanty herbage, lengthways along it. Along this path the 
travellers took their course, with a cautious, quiet step. Saul in the 
meantime produced a short sword, which he had under his garments ; 
and Judas imitating his example, took out a long knife. 

" It is well to be prepared in case of danger," said Saul. " We pos- 
sibly may come upon a mountain robber and his family, instead of a 
recluse." 

Their cautious preparations were unnecessary ; for the path soon led 
them to the mouth of a cave in the rock, when they heard a voice in a 
loud, exhorting strain, which they recognized to be the voice of the 
recluse, John. Softly they approached, and attentively listened, when 
they distinguished the following words : 

" And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jessey, and 
a branch shall grow out of his roots ; and the Spirit of the Lord shall 
rest upon him — the spirit of wisdom and understanding — the spirit of 
counsel and might — the spirit of knowledge, and the fear of the Lord. 
Again: what says the prophet? — ' Behold my servant whom I uphold: 
— mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth ! I have put my spirit upon 
him— he shall bring forth judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not cry 
nor lift up ; nor cause his voice to be heard in the streets. A bruised 
reed he shall not break, and the smoking flax he shall not quench. He 
shall bring forth judgment unto truth !" 

There was a pause for a while — but at length the voice resumed : — 
"Again, my brethren, what sayeth he further ?—' For unto us a son is 



48 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

given, and the government shall be upon his shoulders ; and his name 
shall be called Wonderful, Councillor, The Mighty God, The Ever- 
lasting Father, The Prince of Peace !" 

The voice ceased, when Saul whispered to Judas — " John the Baptist 
is haranguing an imaginary audience or congregation. Put up thy 
weapon, Judas, and let us enter. Remember, thy speech and actions 
must be in conformity with whatsoever character I assume." 

Judas bowed in assent, when they both entered the cave. The 
entrance to the cavern — which was at the base of the wall of the ravine 
— was about six feet high by three wide, with a slight descent into a 
kind of a passage : at the farther end of which was another opening on 
the right, leading into a spacious, irregularly formed chamber about 
fifteen feet high and as many broad, in the most narrow part, with twice 
the number in length. The walls and ceiling were of rock, of nature's 
moulding, excepting the wall at the farther end, which seemed to be 
artificially constructed from rude fragments of rock, of various sizes 
and shapes. 

The floor of this chamber was tolerably smooth and clean, but no 
furniture was to be seen, excepting a coarse cloth suspended over the 
entrance, which was used to screen the indweller from the night air. 
There were a few vessels, such as a water vase and some cups and dishes 
of earthenware, and in one corner a quantity of rushes t covered with a 
coarse cloth, which served the recluse for a couch. At the base of the 
artificial wall there was a small fire burning, which seemed to be made 
of rushes and broken pieces of brushwood that had been gathered from 
the debris swept down by the stream ; over this fire, by means of two 
cross-sticks, a cooking vessel was suspended, containing something 
intended for food, and a few feet from it, seated upon a stone, was the 
occupant of this wild, solitary abode, who seemed to be intensely 
absorbed in reading a roll-manuscript or book. 

As the two visitors were about entering this chamber, the recluse 
resumed his harangue : 

" Thus, men and brethren, speaks the Holy Prophet. What shall we 
understand by his words? What shall we think and say of them? — 
What " 

"Peace to all within here ! " exclaimed Saul as he entered, by way 
of salutation. 

"Blessed be this abode, in the name of the Lord," said Judas in 
unison. 

The recluse was so absorbed in the subject of his contemplation, that 
he did not see the visitors enter, but as soon as he heard their voices he 
started and instantly sprang to his feet, throwing himself in an attitude 
of proud defiance. Whether he thought that the Great Arch Piend had 
come, or enemies of a more earthly nature, to attack him, it is not clearly 
known, but it is evident he expected something of a hostile nature ; his 
body was slightly bent backward ; his right arm extended, holding in 
his hand the manuscript book, as though it was a sword he flourished, 
and his left hand was placed upon his breast ; while from his dark, 
sunken eyes beamed forth glances of mingled astonishment and terror ; 
and his long black hair scattering in wild disorder. His features 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 49 

were of the true Arabian type — high forehead; long, thin nose; small 
(compressed lips ; projecting cheek-bone ; a dark, olive complexion and 
very meagre ; a thick moustache and long untrimmed beard, added to 
his wild and savage aspect. There were several wrinkles around his 
eyes ; some around his mouth, and two long ones running down the 
cheeks to the lower part of his chin, which were not produced from old 
age, but rather the effect of an ascetic life and a disturbed mind. 

He wore a dark brown dress made of camel' s-hair cloth of very coarse 
texture, reaching from the neck to the ankles, with a kind of cape ovei 
the shoulders, reaching to the elbows, and fastened around the waist 
with a leathern belt. His hairy, sinuous legs, arms and feet were 
entirely naked. Such was the recluse, John the Baptist, a young man 
of about two and thirty, though in aprjearance many years older. 

The parties viewed each other for some moments in great astonish- 
ment, without saying a word, when at length Saul bowed low, and 
addressed the recluse in a mild, complacent tone of voice, — 

"Be not alarmed at our presence, Holy Sir; we are travellers and 
friends." 

The amazement and terror of the recluse subsided, and the hostile 
attitude gave place to one more humble and placent, and he inquired in 
atone of voice more courteous than was to be expected from his previous 
hostile demonstrations ; for as he glanced at the elegant dress of Saul 
and the more humble one of Judas, he soon perceived that the former 
was a person of consequence, and the latter his servant : 

" What purport, my friends," he said, " may you have in this visit to 
my humble abode ? " 

"We have no particular object in view Holy Sir, in this, our visit," 
replied Saul; " I am travelling for pleasure, curiosity and information. 
I have, to-day, been exploring the scenery of this wilderness, and 
having passed up this ravine from the direction of the lake, I perceived 
some caves above this ledge ; when, knowing that the day was drawing 
to a close, I thought it would be well to select one of them wherein to 
pass the night. Thus, Holy Sir, thou must attribute it to accident and 
not design, that has caused us to intrude upon thy pious meditations. 
However, as we are here, we will tarry for the night, with thy good 
leave, and avail ourselves of the benefit of thy holy company. 1 ' 

The recluse, nothing doubting, received the explanation of Saul with 
good grace. All suspicion and alarm seemed banished from his dark, 
sunken eyes, hitherto so repellant, for they assumed a placent and 
kindly expression, as in a tone of meekness he replied to Saul and his 
companion : 

"Strangers, it is not in the power of poor John of the wilderness, to 
accord you such hospitality as is customary in the world, and such as 
your habits and station require. But, if you deem tit to share witli me 
the shelter of this rocky cavern and my humble food, I shall most 
gladly make you welcome." 

"Most thankfully wo accept thy proffer of a shelter for the night; 
with it and thy sage discourse, we shall be enabled to pass the time to 
great advantage; as to food, we are not unprovided." 

The host then went to ono corner of the cavern, from whence ho 
4 



50 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

brought forth a long board, which he placed upon the ground near to 
the fire— then, placing a large stone under one end and covering it with 
the mantle of Saul, he formed a rude couch, then he told his visitor to 
repose himself. Saul did as he was requested, and Judas seated himself 
on a large stone near to him. 

The first thing of consideration that occupied their thoughts, was the 
care of their horses ; which as soon as the host understood, he told Judas 
to take them a little higher up the ravine, when he would find a cave to 
the right, where they could be secured for the night. 

Saul then entered into conversation with the recluse, upon various 
unimportant matters, with the view of ascertaining as well as he could, 
the nature of the latter, before he entered on the subject of his designs, 
(like sailors, when they are entering a strange harbour, by dropping 
the lead and line, to ascertain the depth of water and the most favourable 
points, in order to enter in safety.) 

In the meantime Judas left his company, with the intention of 
attending to the horses. With hasty steps he traversed the ledge and 
descended to the bottom of the ravine; then, looking cautiously around 
him, and taking a deep inspiration, he exclaimed: "Ah! by the God of 
my Fathers! I am once more alone!" Seeming to feel a degree of 
relief from this ejaculation, he said to himself: 

" I can now think and speak, if I choose, without fear of that master 
of mine. Freedom of thought and speech must be a luxury to any one 
like me, who has so long been deprived of it. To think freely when in 
his presence, I am afraid— for, some how, his keen eye can penetrate to 
my thoughts. How then, can I speak freely, when I have not freedom 
of thought? But why need I be afraid any longer? Has he not told 
me that I shall be his equal in his presence? Did he not say that 
I shall no longer serve him as a menial, but shall be his trusted agent 
in all matters, wherein I am to serve him with liberty of speech, and 
shall share his wealth according to my wants and wishes; also, that 
in a short time I shall be made a freeman in fact? O ! glorious change 
that will be. It seems too great to be true ! I wish I could penetrate 
the depth of his mind and heart, as he can mine. Perhaps he has some 
design to accomplish, at present requiring my trusty services, and when 
that is accomplished he will not be true to his word. Ah ! that thought 
is perplexing. How shall I be sure that he means well to me? How 
shall I secure him?" 

Thus Judas communed with himself, as he proceeded to the spot 
where the horses were tethered— up to which point of time his thoughts 
seemed incapable of making any farther progress. 

"Ah ! how shall I secure him ? " he repeated, but not being able to find 
an answer to his query, he seized the horses and led them up the ravine, 
with a slow, steady step, as he conned over that important sentence. 
At length, having traversed about a hundred yards, he arrived at a cavo 
on the opposite side of the ravine— the opening of which being low down 
and of sufficient size to admit the horses. It consisted of one chamber, 
quite convenient to shelter the animals and keep them secure. 

He led them into the cave; then taking the bag containing the pro- 
visions, he took therefrom two barley-cakes, which he broke into pieces 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 51 

and placed them before the beasts. While they were eating, he gathered 
many fragments of rock, with which the floor was strewn, and with 
them, he built up in the entrance- way, a barrier, so that they should 
not be able to make their escape. This done, he stood before it a few 
moments to see if his work was efficient, when the difficult question of 
his previous train of thoughts recurred to him :— " How shall I secure 
him?" Slapping his hands in an ecstacy of joy, his eyes glistening 

with triumph, he exclaimed " I have it ! 1 will serve my master the 

same way I have served the horses— I will feed him with everything 

1 that his vanity and ambition shall desire— I will secure all his secrets 

and designs ; and while he is enjoying his anticipated ambitious 

i achievements, I will gradually raise around him certain barriers,— 

through which he shall not be enabled to advance or retreat, without 

( my assistance. Thus, he will be dependent upon my will, secresy and 

circumspection. The fulfilment of his word with me, will then be 

1 secure. This is a happy thought:— now Judas, proceed to action !" 

Judas seemed much elated at the solution of his difficult question : 
he then took up his bag, and was about returning to his company, when 
another train of thoughts entered his mind that caused him to arrest 
\ his steps. 

"I feel convinced," he said to himself, "that master of mine has 
more deep designs upon that recluse, than he chose to make known to 
1 me. I am determined to find all out ; therefore I must keep my eyes, 
ears and thoughts alive, while at the same time, I will feign an utter 
indifference. They may talk late into the night; therefore a fire-light 
1 will be necessary. Perhaps the recluse is not well supplied ; therefore 
\l will gather some fuel." 

Thus saying— or thinking, Judas once more deposited his bag, and 
^commenced gathering a quantity of dry rushes and sticks, which were 
to be found along the margins of the stream, of which in a few minutes 
he made a good-sized bundle; then placing it upon his shoulder, and 
litis bag under his arm, he bent his way towards his master and the 
'reluse. 

When Judas returned to his companions, the last ray of the sun had 
'departed from the crest of the mountains. All was gloomy and misty 
in the ravine; and darkness filled the caves, excepting that one where 
lie recluses' small fire cast a light for a small space around. Judas 
entered and deposited his bundle of fuel at the feet of the recluse. 

"Thou hast done well," observed the recluse to Judas, "thy fore- 
thought and care are commendable, as we may need it before the night 
is through." Then turning to Saul, who was still reclining on his couch, 
jhe remarked "Thy servant seems trustworthy and vigilant, Sir,— is he 
free, or a bondman?" 

" He is a bondman," replied Saul : " but his merits cannot be esteemed 
too highly. Practically, there are no bonds between us but those of 
affection and mutual interest." 

" It is well !".returned the recluse. " It would be a great good if all 
fcien held the same relation to each other." 

While this short dialogue was going on, Judas was endeavouring to 
recruit the fire by putting on fuel and blowing it ; but the commendation 



52 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

he received from his master so excited him to laughter, that he had 
great difficulty in screwing his mouth to the operation. " They little 
think," he said to himself, " that I thought only of my own convenience 
when I procured the fuel. Henceforth, when I serve another, I will 
think of myself first : such shall be my maxim." 

Judas having recruited the fire, an agreeable warmth compensated 
for the chills of the evening, and a good light was shed around a great 
portion of the cavern; while the cookiug vessel above it sent forth 
volumes of steam, and emitted a bubbling sound. 

" I wonder what is in that pot !" said Judas to himself, as he eyed the 
vessel over the fire. " I have heard that John the Baptist fed on locusts 
and wild honey. It certainly cannot be that — for I never heard of 
locusts being stewed. Perhaps the old wizard has had a presentiment 
of our visit, and is preparing something extra for our repast." 

Judas' doubts and curiosity we're soon satisfied ; for the recluse per- 
ceiving that the day was spent, observed 'that it was now time to 
repair the waste of the body by partaking of food.' He then brought 
forward a large board, which he placed about a foot from the ground 
by supporting it with several large fragments of rock : forming a rude 
table. Taking the vessel from the fire, he poured its contents into a 
large wooden bowl, which upon investigation, proved to be a kind of 
bean or seed taken from the long pods of a species of locust tree — that 
he had made into a stew by adding some barley-meal, water, and a 
gum taken from the leaves of several wild shrubs, known to most 
people in the country as wild honey: — altogether, making a savoury 
mess, palatable and nourishing. 

This preparation the host placed upon the table, and afterwards, he 
disinterred from the fire-ashes, two barley-cakes ; from another locality 
he produced some dried figs, and a vessel containing water. Having 
made these preparations, he turned towards his guests and said " Come 
my friends, share with me this humble repast : God has made us of the 
dust of the earth ; and so far as our bodily wants require, he has made 
us dependent thereon. He commands us to eat of its fruits, in order 
that we may live to glorify him." 

"With good will, Holy Sir, we will partake of thy food," replied 
Saul, as he rose from his couch and stood before the host, assuming a 
courteous and graceful demeanour. " But there is one request I would 
ask of thee beforehand. As we are provided with what is necessary 
during our stay in the wilderness, thou must allow us to make with 
our provision, a common stock ; so that if we partake of thy food, thou 
must partake of ours in social friendship." 

The recluse seemed to -hesitate for a few moments before he replied, 
as he cast a rather suspicious glance npon Saul — then upon Judas, and 
lastly upon the big travelling bag, as though he would fain know what 
they had to eat. At length he replied, "Be it as thou wilt, my friend." 

By order of Saul, Judas soon brought from the bag the remains of 
the roast sheep, some preserved fruit, cakes and sweet-meats, — all of 
which he placed upon the table. The leathern bottle he disengaged, 
and with the goblets, placed aside in readiness when they should be 
called for. Saul and the recluse now seated themselves upon stones, by 



JESUS OF NAZARETH, 53 

the table, while Judas stood in attendance. The host crossed his arms, 
bowed his head, and muttered a few words of thanks to the Great 
Jehovah. Judas took two goblets — filling them with water, one of 
which he placed before the host, and the other before Saul ; then, with 
liis knife, he cut in pieces the roast meat, returning it to the board, 
when the repast commenced, with mutual, courteous attentions to each 
Dther's well-being. The recluse presenting to Saul one half of a bivalve 
shell, told him to partake of the locust stew, assuring him that it was 
very good : of which the latter availed himself, which he pronounced 
excellent — far beyond his anticipations. The host then helped himself 
bo some of the same ; but during the process of mastication, he cast 
several glances towards the roast meat, which Saul perceiving, pushed 
the platter containing it towards him, and in a persuasive tone invited 
him to partake thereof. 

4 ' It is contrary to the customs and precepts of the Order of Priesthood 
to which I belong, to partake of meats," remarked the recluse, as he 
3ast another glance at the roast sheep. 

" Why so?" inquired Saul, with feigned astonishment. " Do we not 
3at roast lamb at the Paschal Feast?" 

"True, my friend, we do in that case," returned the recluse; "but 
that is an holy ordinance by the express command of God, through 
Moses, to show the purity of our hearts and souls, in keeping in religious 
remembrance God's mercies to our forefathers." 

" That may be as thou sayest," rejoined Saul; "but if the eating of 
roast lamb can have such a good effect upon the soul, at the feast of 
Passover, it certainly cannot have an evil effect at another time. We 
know from experience that it is not so, and there is not any holy ordi- 
nance to forbid it, as a sin." 

"My scruples do not proceed from the idea of committing a sin," 
rejoined the recluse, " but from prudence ; as it is thought by our Order, 
that by abstinence from flesh, our minds and souls will be better prepared 
for profound and holy meditation : but in the present case, I will make 
mi exception to my rules. I will set apart this evening for friendly 
converse with thee, and I will partake of the good cheer thou hast put 
before rue." 

Thus saying, the recluse helped himself to the roast meat, which he 
ate with a great relish and a keen appetite. No sooner had he eaten the 
first piece, than it seemed to have aroused within him the hunger of a 
wolf or vulture, for flesh ; — piece after piece he demolished, without the 
accompaniment of barley-bread, or his favourite dish, the locust stew, 
until the whole of the meat disappeared ; then drinking off his goblet 
of water, he removed a little from the table, panting and swelling with 
the fulness thereof. 

"I thought the old wizard could not resist that- nice bit of lamb," 
said Judas to himself, as he looked on at the carnivorous voracity of 
the recluse— " but I did not think that he would have deprived me of 
jmy share." 

Saul having satisfied his appetite with bread and fruits, gave Judas 
a signal, when the lattor brought, forward the leathern bottle, and tilled 
the two goblets with wine; in the meantime, the host and his \i 



54 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

retired from the table — the former seating himself upon a stone by the 
fire, and the latter on his couch. Judas having completed all his 
necessary offices, "betook himself to the table, where, though he was 
somewhat chagrined at the absence of his roast lamb, he managed to 
make a supper from the remaining eatables. 

" That roast flesh of thine was of most excellent quality," remarked 
the recluse to Saul, as he continued to suck his teeth and lick his lips, 
as though he wished to prolong as much as possible the savoury taste. 

" I am glad thou wert pleased with it," answered Saul. 

" I am sure there never was a finer lamb ever entered the temple of 
the Lord, as a burnt offering," added the recluse. "But I am afraid, 
my friend, that I have been too inordinate in my eating. When the pent 
up appetites are let loose, they get beyond our control. So it has been 
with me ; I have fasted a long time from flesh, and now that I have 
eaten, I have taken too much." 

"Make thyself not uneasy, dear Sir," replied Saul, "but follow my 
example. I am accustomed after my meals, to take a cup of wine. It 
promotes digestion ; gives a pleasing exhilaration, and in many other 
respects, is a good medicine." 

Saul then went to the table, and brought forward the two goblets of 
wine ; one of which he presented to the recluse, as he continued to 
observe, — "Now Sir, if thou drinkest this wine, it will do thee good in 
promoting digestion, warming thy blood, and " 

" But dost thou know, my friend, that wine is forbidden by the Order 
of which I am a member?" *■ 

"wall it not wine, then," replied Saul, "let it be medicine — I will be 
thy physician, to prescribe for thee; to aid thy indigestion." 

" Thou art inclined to be humorous, my friend," observed the recluse, 
as the austerity of his countenance relaxed a little, and a slight smile 
lit up his stern features. "However, I think thou hast good reason in 
this particular. I really think something is necessary, to aid me in the 
digestion of my supper." 

There was a pause, in which the speaker seemed irresolute, as was 
shown by certain nervous actions. At length he suddenly seized the 
proffered goblet, and said " I will do thy bidding, and follow thy ex- 
ample. Let it be understood, that this night I devote in friendship to 
thee ; besides, our compact was, that each one should share the other's 
food." 

Saul then drank his wine, and the recluse did the same, with a deep 
gasp, indicating that his draught was a long and powerful one. He 
handed Saul the goblet ; and then he arose, paced the chamber to and 
fro with one hand on his breast, as though he felt a force within him, 
that impelled him to more than common action. 

" By the God of our Fathers !" exclaimed Judas mentally, as he saw 
the recluse quaff the goblet of wine. " I wonder what the old wizard 
will be prevailed upon to do next. Twice has he broken the rules of 
his Order, through that sweet-tongued master of mine. I should not 
be surprised if Saul should persuade him to dance !" 

Judas having at length finished his supper, glanced towards his 
master, from whom he received a signal to re-fill the goblets with wine, 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 55 

which order he immediately executed— placing them upon a smooth, 
flat stone, near to his master. The recluse in the meantime had dis- 
continued his pacing to and fro, and had seated himself by the fire, 
into which he gazed with great intentness. There seemed to have been 
a marked change come over him, for his eyes were glassy and wild 
in their expression; the veins of his forehead were fuller, and the 
general aspect of his features, sterner than before — while his fingers, 
as his hands were clasped together, seemed to be endowed with a spas- 
modic twitching. For a few minutes, he seemed unconscious of the 
presence of his guests, as he was totally absorbed in the train of thought 
and feelings within him. 

" May I be bold enough to inquire, worthy host," said Saul, with 
great suavity of tone in his voice — " what are the reasons that influence 
thee, to lead this solitary life in this wilderness ? Is it that thou viewest 
the ordinary attractions of life— the pleasures, conveniences and in- 
terests of society, as unbecoming and repulsive to thee; or art thou 
afraid that their temptations would withdraw, or interfere with thy 
pious meditations?" 

11 1 am not afraid of such temptations," replied the recluse, as he 
withdrew his gaze from the fire, and fixed it with an expression of 
severity upon the questioner, and then added " I am not insensible to 
the attractions, pleasures and interests of society ; but I know there 
are some circumstances more favourable to that course, by which a 
man ought to prepare himself for his destiny. With this view, from 
my own free choice, I have become a denizen of the wilderness." 

" But how can a man know his destiny, my dear host?" Saul asked 
in surprise. " What man is there can know to-day, what to-morrow 
will bring forth, concerning himself, or others?" 

11 That may be the case with most men," gravely responded the host ; 
" but as regards myself, my course, my duty and destiny are known 
tome — for they were fore-ordained and marked out before I was born." 

"Indeed!" exclaimed Saul in apparent astonishment, who neverthe- 
less was not at all surprised at x^hat he heard — for he was now con- 
firmed in his previous ideas, that John the Baptist was a religious 
monomaniac. " Whom then have I the honour to address, for I am 
ignorant to whom I am indebted for this night's hospitality?" 

"Hast thou not read the books of the Holy Prophets? — they speak 
of me," answered the recluse. 

"I have," replied Saul — "but I know of nothing therein stated that 
alludes to thee, that I know of, for I know not thy name. Tell me who 
thou art." 

" I am the voice of him that crieth in the wilderness : * Prepare yo the 
way of the Lord ; make straight in the desert a highway for our God,' " 
the recluse uttered in a loud, piercing voice. Then suddenly springing 
to his feet, he went to the niche in the wall, from whence he brought 
forth his book. Unrolling it before Saul, he pointed with his finger to 
a passage, and remarked, with an air of zealous triumph :— "Thus 
sayeth JEsaias, when foreshadowing the precursor of the Messiah, — I, 
John the Baptist, am that voice in the wilderness !" 



56 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"John the Baptist!" exclaimed Saul, in dissembled surprise,— then 
looking at the passage pointed out by John, he nodded with the intent 
of expressing his belief of the wild statement made by the speaker. 
The recluse then unrolled the book to a greater extent, and pointing to 
another passage, he remarked : 

"And what says Malaki, the Prophet of the Lord : * Behold ! I will 
send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me ; and the 
Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple — even the 
messenger of his covenant whom ye delight in. Behold! — he shall 
come with the Lord of hosts.' " 

" Then thou art John the Baptist — the precursor of that Mighty One, 
who is to appear among us," inquired Saul, with a degree of reverence 
in his voice. 

"I am the man to whom the Prophets allude," replied John the 
Baptist emphatically, as he quietly crossed his naked arms upon his 
breast, and looked down upon Saul with an air of pious dignity. " To 
whom would the prophesies allude, unless to me ? Do I not realize 
them in person, nature and circumstances ? Do I not realize them in 
spirit? Are they not realized in time ? For it is now — according to the 
visions of Daniel — that the time is come, when the Messiah shall make 
his appearance to Israel ; and I, John, am his precursor, to prepare the 
minds of men." 

"Most holy man," said Saul, rising from his couch, and bending 
before the recluse, in a reverential manner, " I have heard of thy holy 
fame, but knew thee not. I am now indebted to accident for the benefit 
of thy valuable discourse and enlightenment on this mysterious subject. 
Nothing doubting of the holy mission to which the prophets allude, I 
wish to know, Holy Sir, who is this mysterious one and what is his 
nature, of whom thou sayest thou art the precursor ? Deign to give me, 
Sir, the enlightenment I ask in confidence, and I will be an attentive 
listener to thy words. But " 

Here Saul stooped down and took up the two goblets of wine ; one of 
which he presented to John, and resumed : 

"As the request I make of thee may be too exhausting, I pray thee to 
drink with me another cup of this palmy juice, in holy communion and 
friendly confidence, as it will give thee strength to perform the task." 

John looked suspiciously at the proffered goblet, and then at the 
countenance of his guest, but seeing nothing repugnant in either, he 
withdrew his gaze and remained a few moments in hesitation. The 
previous goblet of wine which he had drank had warmed his blood- 
aroused his nerves, and caused his ideas to flit with rapidity; producing 
within him a seeming energy of body and mind, as well as a glorious 
thrill of feeling. However, as some time had elapsed since he had 
taken it, there was an abatement of the stimulus, leaving a thirst in the 
throat and a hankering desire to repeat the potation. Under all these 
influences it is not surprising that the holy man should once more 
succumb to the pleasing temptation. He did so. Stretching forth his 
hand, he seized the goblet with eagerness, and said: "Be it as thou 
say est." The wine disappeared ; a quickening fire glowed through his 
blood and nerves; the muscles of his face twitched; his eyes glared, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 57 

seeming to emit beams of holy fire, and he felt a power within him 
capable of encountering Satan and all his hosts. 

At this instant a powerful snore was heard to issue from Judas ; who, 
being seated on the floor, reclining against the wall by the fire, wrapped 
in his mantle, with his head bowing upon his breast, seemed to be in a 
very deep sleep. 

"My servant sleeps soundly," observed Saul, "thou mayest now 
impart to me in confidence, all thou knowest concerning the Great 
Mysterious One, who is to come among us, of whom the prorjhets have 
spoken." 

" My friend," replied John, in a serious tone of voice, " the intelligence 
that I have to impart is not to be given in confidence to one more than 
another — for it concerns all the tribes of Israel, and even the Gentiles, 
to have their ears open, as it is to the salvation of all mankind to 
hear of the coming of the Great Prince and Mighty King, that is to be ; 
who is to gather the scattered children of Zion ; to re-build the throne of 
David; who shall seize the sceptre of Judah; to restore the reign of 
.harmony and peace, which was the design of God for his chosen people. 
He who is to enter the Holy Temple, the House of God, to purge it from 
its corruptions — to drive hence its pollutors, imposters and great sinners ; 
to reinstate God's holy ordinances ; to purify his holy alter, and offer up 
sacrifices more acceptable of Israel. God has spoken of this holy 
mission and of the Divine Prince who is to come, through his inspired 
prophets. From them we must gain our information, and on them we 
must depend for our authority, until our eyes may be blessed with the 
sight of the Messiah's presence. The prophet Isaiah says : 

" 'And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the 
Lord's house shall be established in the mountains, and shall be exalted 
above the hills ; and all nations shall flow unto it — for out of Zion shall 
go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. In that 
day, the branch of the Lord shall be beautiful and glorious, and the 
fruit of the earth shall be excellent and comely for them that are escaped 
of Israel. And it shall come to pass, that he that is left in Zion, and 
he that remaineth in Jerusalem, shall be called Holy; even every one 
that is written among the living in Jerusalem. For unto us a child is 
born ; unto us a son is given ; and the government shall be upon his 
1 shoulders. And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him ; the spirit 
of wifcdom and understanding— the spirit of counsel and might— the 
spirit of knowledge, and the fear of the Lord. And he shall set up an 
ensign for the nations, and shall assemble the outcasts of Israel, and 
gather together the dispersed of Judah, from the four ccners of the 
earth. In that day when the Lord cometh, the eyes of the blind shall 
be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. The lame man 
shall leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb shall sing. And 
the people of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and 
overlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladiu 
mid sorrow and sighing shall llee away.' " 

By this time, John the Baptist — from the pious ardour with which ho 
had delivered his discourse; — had wrought himself to a high pitch of 
excitement, which was greatly increased by the stimulus of the wine 
I 



58 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

he had drank. His voice was high and piercing; his words uttered 
with great rapidity, accompanied with a restless motion of his legs, 
and frantic gestures of his arms and hands, while the expressions of 
his features were wild and terrific. 

"Again, the Holy Prophet sayeth," John continued— * Behold my 
servant whom I uphold : — mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth. I 
have put my spirit upon him ; he shall bring forth judgment to the 
Gentiles. He shall not fail or be discouraged, until he has set judgment 
on the earth, and the isles shall wait for his law. He shall go forth as 
a mighty man; he shall stir up jealousy as a man of war; he shall 
prevail against his enemies. lie shall say to the prisoners, go forth ; 
to them that are in darkness, show yourselves. They shall feed in the 
ways, and their jDastures shall be in high places. They shall not hunger 
or thirst; neither shall the sun smite them. In their affliction, ho will 
be afflicted, and the angel of his presence will save them. By his love 
and his pity, he will redeem them. Comfort ye then — comfort ye my 
people! sayeth your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and 
cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished — that her iniquity is 
pardoned ; for the Messiah cometh who is to save her. Hear ye then, 
the voice of him that crieth in the wilderness — * Prepare ye the way of 
the Lord ; make straight in the desert a highway for your God !' " 

John the Baptist paused for a few moments, during which he looked 
intently upon Saul, as he pointed with his forefinger to himself, and 
then added in a much lower tone of voice, — 

" I am the voice in the wilderness ; I am the messenger of whom the 
prophet spoke, — that is to go forth and proclaim the coming of the 
Messiah. This I have been doing through all the countries from north 
to south, bordering on Jordan ; — preparing the people to receive their 
Lord, by preaching to them repentance of sins, and remission of sins 
by baptism. My task is now nearly done, for the time draweth nigh." 

John the Baptist ceased. With his eyes intently fixed upon Saul, he 
seemed to be trying to make out what effect his last declaration had 
upon his hearer. During the whole time that he was delivering his 
discourse, Saul listened with grave attention, as though he gave full 
credence to all he heard. Now and then he would utter an exclamation, 
or give a motion of his head, in approval of the statements made by 
him. But Saul was a man of great self-control. When he had a* end 
in view which he wished to keep secret, he did not allow his features, 
his words, or his actions to betray it ; consequently, the part he played 
before John was not natural and sincere. He did not believe any of 
the prophesies cited by John, to be true, though he pretended so. He 
viewed them rather as the wild ravings of ignorant, gloomy, fanatical 
men, whose minds were crooked through disappointed ambition and 
religious phrensy. He made no exception, even with John the Baptist ; 
for from the acquaintance he had of him, he was confirmed in the 
opinion that he was a gloomy fanatic, and actually crazy on some 
points, with not sufficient learning or common sense to see the errors 
and inconsistencies of his doctrines. However, as Saul's design was 
to make discoveries, he pretended to be a believer in all that John 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 59 

advanced ; giving no opposition, but gradually leading him to the point 
at which he wished to arrive, by putting a question now and then. 

When John the Baptist said that "The time draweth nigh" and paused, 
Saul sprang to his feel^-seized John^by the hand, and pressed it 
fervently in both of his ; then with great earnestness of expression and 
tone of voice, he said — 

" Tell me, holy man, when that time is to be, for my eyes wish to see 
the glory of that day." 

John the Baptist placed his hands upon the shoulders of Saul, and 
regarded him for a few moments with an air of triumphant zeal, and 
at length said — 

"Thou shalt be happy in thy wish, my friend. According to the 
vision of Daniel, the seventy weeks have just expired, when the 
Messiah is to make his appearance ; therefore the time is come, and he, 
the long expected Lord who is to rule over the House of Israel, is 
come ! Yes, he is come !— for mine eyes have seen him." 

Judas gave a terrible snore, and changed his position. Saul started, 
— this time, his action was not feigned. He had at length, and unex- 
pectedly brought the recluse to the very point he had been aiming at, 
with greater success than he anticipated, and could now afford to listen 
to him with a truly intense interest. He remained silent for a few 
moments, — seeming to revel in pleasing emotions, — a presentiment 
seemed to impress him that something was about to transpire, which 
was to open to him a sphere of glorious future action. 

" How wonderful are the ways of the Great Jehovah !" piously ejacu- 
lated Saul. " Tell me, holy man, what thou hast seen of this mysterious 
and holy personage — what he is like, — how he deports himself, — whence 
he came, — and all else concerning him." 

John the Baptist seemed to hesitate for a few minutes in his reply to 
Saul's questions, but after pacing to and fro across the chamber two or 
three times, with his arms crossed on his breast in deep reflection, he 
replied, — 

" The time appointed for his public declaration, and entering on his 
mission is not quite yet ; till then, I thought it wise to keep him un- 
known ; but as I have thus far spoken in confidence to thee, I will still 
farther speak, — depending upon thy discretion in the matter of what I 
shall further say." 

Saul promised the recluse to be discrete and confidential upon all 
secret matters entrusted to him, — when the recluse resumed : 

"This mighty personage we have been expecting under the name of 
the Messiah, is two-fold in his nature. He is both Man and God ; man 
in his external nature and form, and all divine within. His person is 
human, though far superior in beauty and grace to ordinary men. His 
deportment is most amiable; meekness and benevolence glance from 
his eyes ; words of wisdom, kindness and sympathy flow from his lips, 
and when he puts forth his hand, every thing he touches receives ;i 
virtue impressed." 

"How!" exclaimed Saul in surprise, "is there more virtue in his 
touch, than in that of other men?" 



60 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

" There is," replied the Baptist. " It is by this means we know him 
to be the promised Messiah." 

" This is strange !" said Saul to himself. " I began to suspect a col- 
lusion and a grand scheme of imposture between this pretended mes- 
senger and this Messiah ; but now, I know not what to think." 

"Listen to what I have seen with mine own eyes," continued the 
recluse. "In times past, Lsaw poor, afflicted mortals with loathsome 
diseases, — all corrupt within and disgusting without. This Divine 
Person of whom we speak, placed his hands upon them, gently gliding 
over their deformed members, sometimes once, twice, or several times. 
The sores of the afflicted have drawn up — they soon dried, scaled, 
and shortly became as new flesh, and all without and within became 
healthy." 

"This is truly wonderful!" said Saul audibly, whose interest began 
to be greatly excited regarding the person spoken of. "But what 
meanest thou by saying ''In times past,'— hast thou known this strange 
personage in former times?" 

" Even so," replied John the Baptist — " we were companions and 
fellow students in our youth." 

" I see ! — I see !" said Saul to himself, as his eyes brightened with the 
sudden development of some new ideas. " This John and this pre- 
tended Messiah are old acquaintances. They have had time enough to 
understand each other. They have had time enough to invent, and 
bring forward some great scheme of imposition, which they are now 
about to bring before the public. Yet it is possible that there may be 
something singular and uncommon in the nature of this new comer, 
upon which the scheme of their Messiahship is founded. However, I 
must see farther, before I make any rash conclusions." 

"When was it" said Saul to the recluse, as soon as the preceding 
reflections had passed through his mind, "thou didst discover this 
miraculous power that thy Divine companion possesses? Was it in 
his childhood, youth, or manhood?" 

" It was at the time when childhood ceases, and manhood begins to 
develope itself, that I made the discovery. From my studies and pro- 
fession as one of the Priesthood, I became convinced that it was a 
divine power developing itself within him; and after a farther in- 
vestigation, I became confirmed that in him, we were to behold the 
Messiah as promised by the prophets. It was not so with him; he 
acknowledged the Divine Power within him to a certain extent ; but 
liis modesty was so great that he would not acknowledge himself to be 
the Divine Person spoken of by the prophets. W^ith this declaration 
he left me, to travel in distant countries : promising me, that after he 
should have improved in knowledge, he would return to his native 
country ; and if he still possessed that miraculous power, he would use 
it to the greatest extent, for the benefit of his fellow men. He has now 
returned, and is prepared to declare himself to the world as a teacher of 
morals and true religion ; aiding his discourses with his other powers 
as a physician. But mark me, my friend: though this Divine Man 
cannot consent to be considered the Messiah, yet I, John, am convinced 
that he is the promised one ; for it is now the time expires, according to 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 61 

Daniel's vision of seventy weeks, when he said the Messiali should 
come. This I know, and I consider it to be my duty to make it known ; 
as the prophets expressly state, that I shall declare it to the world." 

From the latter part of John the Baptist's statement, Saul was en- 
abled to take a comprehensive view of the whole affair. He saw that 
he, himself, was wrong in considering either John or his companion as 
imposters, and was better enabled to see the motives of their actions. 
John he considered to be under the influence of a superstitious and 
fanatical zeal; while his companion — whoever he was — seemed to be 
impelled through noble principles of honesty, truth and benevolence. 
Saul therefore felt gratified with his present discoveries. 

" I doubt not all thou hast said to be the truth, concerning this Divine 
Man," observed Saul to the recluse, as he wished to make him believe 
that he was of that opinion. " His modesty, as thou hast said, prevents 
him from acknowledging his divine nature ; but if the prophets speak 
truth, and thou art not mistaken, he certainly must be the Messiah." 

"Thou hast spoken well," replied John; his eyes sparkling with 
great pleasure. 

" But when, Holy Sir, shall I have the unspeakable pleasure of be- 
holding this remarkable personage?'.' inquired Saul. 

44 Three days from the present, he will appear at Bethabara, on the 
Jordan," answered John; " where he condescends to receive the holy 
rite of baptism at my hands. Though he is entirely pure from all sin 
and vice, and needeth no cleansing, yet he is willing to conform to this 
holy institution as an example to others." 

"At Bethabara — three days from this !" said Saul, repeating the words 
of John, as though he would firmly fix them upon his memory. 

"Yes," replied John: "be thou there before mid-day, when thou 
shalt behold him of whom the prophets have spoken ; who is to take 
up the sceptre of Judah, and gather her scattered children unto the 
House of the Lord." 

" Believe me — I will be there," answered Saul. 

Nothing further of any consequence, was said between the recluse 
and his guest that night. They soon afterwards betook themselves to 
their night's repose. Saul, wrapped in his mantle, slept on his rude 
couch ; and the host betook himself, to his bed of rushes, in one corner 
of the cavern. 

"Ah! Ah! — what a wonderful dream I have had!" said Judas to 
himself, as he roused up from his sleepy position to put some fresh fuel 
on the fire. " What wonderful disclosures of wonderful times ! Won- 
derful men — wonderful secrets and wonderful doings! predicting a 
wonderful future. Ah! Ah! — we shall see. I must go to sleep in 
earnest now, or I shall not be fit to play my part to-morrow." 

Judas then placed himself as comfortably as he could, and slept 
soundly till the morning, when he and his master made an early 
departure, after taking a cordial leave of the recluse, John the Baptist. 



62 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 



VISION THIRD. 

The Spirits resume their mystic powers over the Medium's mind,— 
producing a vision, beautiful, pleasing and of interest profoundly 
deep ; which, with humble efforts, is here detailed. 

The meridian sun, in dazzling splendour, rode high above the Mount 
of Olives — the last fertile mountainous ridge that separates the Holy 
City of Jerusalem, from the great wilderness of the East. The top of 
this mountain was formed of three mounds, — the centre one being the 
highest, — which were covered with thick forests of oak, pine, fur, cedar 
and other trees. The western side descended gradually, in gentle slopes 
down to the valley of the Kidron, which was the eastern boundary 
of the city. These slopes were covered with the olive, fig, palm and 
myrtle; and many open spaces presented vineyards and orchards, 
bearing delicious fruits. Along the base were summer residences, 
pertaining to the wealthy inhabitants of the Great City ; surrounded 
by gardens, redolent with the odors of fig, balsam, pomegranate and 
mulberry. On the eastern side of the mountain, separated from the 
three mounds by a slight depression, was a rocky ridge, nearly barren, 
gradually rising at the centre mound, and terminating at the north- 
eastern end by a deep ravine ; and at the foot of this ridge, on the 
eastern side, was a village called Bethany : consisting of a few flat- 
roofed houses built of stone. This village formed two lines of habi- 
tations, separated by the road or street, in the centre of which was a 
small aqueduct, conveying water into every house and garden, from 
the mountainous rills ; and on each side was a row of trees of olive, fig 
and others. The inhabitants of this humble place were generally of 
the working class, consisting of a few mechanics and artisans ; but the 
greater part were cultivators of gardens and vineyards, whose sites of 
occupation were on the other side of the mountain. There were three 
roads leading from the village. One passing round the south- westex-n 
shoulder of the mountain, then descending over uneven, stony ground 
down to the Kidron. Another making a steep ascent over the ridge, 
and thence over the top of the mountain, and descending to the north- 
eastern end of the same valley. The other, after leaving the village 
and turning a bluff, makes a rapid descent eastward, down to the valley 
of the Jordan, and being the main road to Jericho from Jerusalem. 

The view from this spot, eastward, is of vast extent, — over barren 
mountain ridges, and deep gloomy ravines, line after line, down to 
the plains of Jordan ; the course of this river could be traced by a line 
of verdure, but the waters could not be seen. A little farther south- 
ward could be seen the open space containing the sullen waters of the 
Lake Asphaltis, or Dead Sea, resembling a gigantic basin of molten 
lead. Beyond, in the background, are the lofty mountains of Moab — 
rising peak above peak in great majesty. The air was so clear, that 
the sea and mountains seemed quite close, though many miles distant. 
The country below presented a scene of complete desolation — the hills 
being bare and red, cut into deep ravines as far as the eye could 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 63 

discern ; the mountains back of these form a stupendous wall, whose 
outlines seemed as smooth as a work of art. 

The habitation at the south-eastern corner of this village of Bethany, 
was a larger house than the rest, it being a public inn for travellers 
passing between Jericho and Jerusalem. It was a rectangular building 
of stone, with a flat roof, having several rooms below and some above ; 
the entrance to the latter being by the means of a staircase on the 
outside. The house and grounds were surrounded by a stone wall — 
one portion of the latter forming a garden, which was arranged into 
fanciful sections for flowers and herbs. Here and there were fruit trees 
giving forth delicious odors, and bearing luscious fruit. In front of 
the house was an open casement or window, surrounded on the outside 
with a trellis-work covered with creeping plants, bearing beautiful and 
sweet scented flowers. The entrance to the house was by a door 
immediately under the stairs, with a covered porch-way or piazza 
some feet in extent. There were stables, out-houses, and a yard in- 
tervening between the house and the garden; all of which bore the 
impress of neatness and good arrangement. 

The proprietor of this establishment was a man by the name of 
Lazarus, a widower with two daughters, who was a tanner by trade. 
He worked at his business in the upper part of the village, while his 
daughters kept his home and gave entertainment to travellers passing 
between the city and Jericho. He had formerly been a resident of a 
village in Galilee, named Nazareth, but being discontented with his 
circumstances, he removed to Bethany, in Judea, where he was near to 
the Holy City, and where it was more convenient to make purchases 
of skins, from the slaughter houses of the Temple, — owing to the vast 
quantity of cattle that were made a sacrifice, to appease the carnivorous 
appetite of the Great Jehovah; — so that between the two callings of 
tanning and innkeeping, he and his family were doing well in life, 
though not rich. 

Lazarus' two daughters were the greatest treasure he possessed, whose 
filial love and amiable devotedness to his wishes, compensated him for 
the loss of his much-beloved deceased wife. They were both maidens 
of agreeable person, good natural sense, and possessing as much in- 
telligence as their circumstances would permit. Martha, the elder, 
whose age was about twenty-eight, was a tall, noble looking female, of 
full womanly development, with jet black hair, eyes and eye-brows, 
and oriental cast of features, with russet complexion. Her whole per- 
son gave evidence of great power and endurance, yet graceful and 
symmetrical in form. 

Mary, the younger daughter, was about twenty-five ; who was less in 
stature, and more delicate in appearance than her sister. Her hair, eyes 
and eye-brows were of chestnut brown ; her visage more oval, and her 
features more rounded. Her complexion much fairer,— being a mixture 
of pink and olive; her skin more transparent, exhibiting a verniillion 
tinge on her cheeks and lips. Her bust was smaller : the outlines of 
the most graceful curves; and all her limbs, though light in structure, 
possessed the greatest symmetry. Her eyes beamed glances of tender- 
ness and amiability ; while her words were of sweetness, encourage- 



64 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

ment and sympathy. Martha's noble person could command respect 
and admiration ; while Mary, with less pretensions to beauty, with her 
sweet voice and gentle beaming eyes, could gain the love of all around 
her. 

In the principal chamber of the house, on the lower floor, the two 
maidens were together, — their father being absent on business at the 
Holy City. The apartment was spacious — the rude walls being covered 
with ornamented leather, and the floor with a thick matting made of 
rushes. At the open casement were rich hangings of silk, striped with 
various showy colors. Along one side of the chamber, at the base of 
the wall, was a kind of mattrass, elevated about a foot from the floor, 
with several thick cushions covered with black leather, which was used 
as a place of general sitting or lounging ; and on the opposite side was 
an alcove a few feet deep, and elevated from the floor about two feet, — 
around which was a mattrass and cushions covered with red silk, and 
hanging curtains in front of the same material, looped up at the sides. 
A small window admitted the light, that looked out upon the rear part 
of the building. Within this alcove, the two sisters, Martha and Mary 
were seated. 

Mary was habited in a vestment with wide, open sleeves, open at the 
neck and breast, reaching a little below the waist, of rich silk, in various 
colored stripes ; from underneath which, fell a short skirt of white 
linen, reaching a little below the knees. Around her waist was a red 
silken girdle ; and her lower limbs were inducted in full trowsers of 
fine red wool, fastened around the ankles. Her beautiful, small feet 
were bare, though slippers of exquisite workmanship stood by her side 
ready for use, when occasion required them. Around her wrists were 
golden bracelets ; in her ears were golden rings of exquisite workman- 
ship, and on one of her fingers she wore a ring of plain gold. She was 
reclining upon the cushion with her eyes shut, in natural, unconscious 
ease, — either asleep, or in a half-dreamy, dosing state. 

Martha was habited in a dress of similar style to that of her younger 
sister, though of coarser and more humble materials ; for she being the 
elder and of greater strength, was in the habit of attending to the more 
laborious part of domestic duties. She was seated opposite to her sister 
in the alcove, with her lower limbs crossed beneath her, in the oriental 
style, Us she was sewing upon a garment that lay in her lap. As she 
progressed with her work, she cast an eye of solicitude upon her younger 
sister now and then, as though she was uneasy about her, — and then, 
continued her work and her reflections. Presently a change seemed 
to come over Mary ; her slumbers no longer seemed easy ; her respi- 
rations were dfircult; a slight quivering of the lips was seen, and a 
slight moan issued from her now and then, as though her dreams or 
thoughts produced within her distressing emotions. 

U I wonder what can ail my dear sister to-day!" Martha said to 
herself, as she glanced towards her sister, and perceived that her sleep 
was uneasy. "There is something, I am sure, more than common. 
She spoke this morning of spirits depressed, and evil presentiment. 
What can she mean? Hie ! what nonsense ! What reason has one so 
pure and innocent as she is, to anticipate evil? " 



JESI7S OF NAZARETH. 65 

Martha's reflections were interrupted, by hearing a piercing shriek 
burst forth from her sister. Immediately casting her eyes in that 
direction, she saw Mary spring from her recumbent position, and rush 
to the verge of the alcove ; then turning, — with her hand placed upon 
her breast — her eyes fixed on vacancy, she uttered another shriek, and 
exclaimed in a most piteous tone of voice : 

" O ! save, save my pretty bird ! " 

"Marj-, my dear sister!" exclaimed Martha, as she rushed towards 
her — feeling much terror at the singular occurrence. Then seizing her 
hands, she shook her, as she added "Awake, awake, my sister ! Thou 
hast been dreaming a bad dream : — look around thee, and see where 
them art!" 

The terrific, vacant stare of Mary subsided, as she became conscious 
where she was, and that her distress proceeded from a dream. At 
length, being convinced of her situation, she heaved a deep sigh and 
burst into tears, while a tremor seized her. 

Martha, as soon as she perceived her sister restored to consciousness, 
rushed from the chamber, into some other part of the house; but she 
quickly returned with a goblet containing a cordial, which she presented 
to her sister, and made her drink. 

After a while, Mary became composed, when raising her eyes to her 
sister with a serious expression, she observed : 

" Is it possible, that all I have seen and felt is no more than a dream !" 

"Nothing more I assure thee, my dear sister," responded Martha, 

"but what can possess thee to conjure up so terrible a dream? Xow 

Mary, my love, I know that something must be on thy mind. Thou 
must make me thy confidant in the place of our dear mother, and I 
will advise thee with all the wisdom and loving consolation that I 
possess. Come my dear, — be not scrupulous in letting me know what 
it is that disturbs thy mind and feelings. But first let me know what 
was thy dream." 

Mary remained silent for some minutes to all the solicitations o/ her 

sister, with her eyes cast down, and her bosom heaving with great 

emotion. But at length, looking up to Martha with re-awakened 

; interest, as a faint smile played around her sweet lips, she said, with 

sisterly affection and candor : 

"I am sorry to trouble thee, Martha, with my silly thoughts and 
: feelings ; but as it is thy wish, I will tell thee all." 

The two sisters then seated themselves side by side, — the head of 
the younger resting on the bosom of the elder ; nestling and embracing 
each other with true sisterly affection. Mary not only felt for her sister 
a true sisterly love, but a degree of deference; as she viewed her in 
the light of a mother, owing to her age and superiority of experience. 
And Martha found, that not only the impulses of sisterly love bound 
tier to her younger sister, but the responsibilities and solicitude of her 
deceased mother, to render her sister happy, devolved upon her. 

" Come, Mary, relate to me that horrible dream," said Martha, as sho 
smoothed the nut-brown hair of her sister on either side. 

"Thou must remember, sister," said Marv in a timid voice, "Unit I 

> o 



66 THE TRUE ^HISTORY OF 

told thee this morning I felt very much depressed in spirits, which I 
considered a foreboding of coming evil, or something strange that is 
about to happen. Thou dost not believe in presentiments, sister, but 
I do." 

" I know nothing of presentiments," responded Martha tartly ; " and 
I cannot believe what I cannot comprehend. Now proceed with thy 
dream." 

"Well," resumed Mary, "I continued under these sad impressions 
all the morning until wearied, I reclined upon the couch. For some 
time I lay dosing, but at length fell asleep. Then I dreamed that I was 
a little girl, as I used to be when we resided at Nazareth. I thought I 
possessed a little bird of most beautiful plumage, that warbled most 
harmonious music. It was my pet, — I prized it above all other things 
on earth. To gaze upon the brilliant colors of its plumage, and listen 
to its heavenly harmonious notes, filled me with unspeakable pleasure. 

"A change took place in my dream. I thought, by some means, my 
bird flew away to the woods on the mountains ; I followed in pursuit — 
weeping, sobbing and tearing my clothes. As I wandered on, over hill 
and dale, penetrating through the wild dark woods, I thought that I 
grew taller, larger and older, until I became the person I now am. At 
last, I perceived my bird, — it was fluttering in agony over a limb of a 
tree. I rushed towards it, and endeavoured to coax it down, but it 
seemed spell bound to the spot ; all my efforts were in vain. At length, 
casting my glance towards the trunk of the tree, I saw an enormous 
serpent with distended jaws, and its eyes intently glaring upon my 
bird : my poor little pet was fascinated and could not escape. At length 
the head of the serpent moved slowly along the limb of the tree, — the 
bird still fluttered, and gradually came closer and closer within the 
influence of its fascinating eyes ; and at length, to end its miseries, it 
flew into the serpent's open mouth. I saw it disappear. ! great was 
my agony! — I shrieked and awoke. Such is my dream, dear sister." 

When Mary had finished relating her dream, her trembling and tears 
were renewed. Martha bent down — drew her closer to her breast, and 
kissed her repeatedly, endeavouring to console her with fond embraces : 
both remained silent for some minutes. 

"What dost thou think of my dream, dear sister," said Mary, at 
length breaking the silence, which, like a baneful spell, seemed to 
exercise its influence over both of them. " Dost thou think there is 
any confirmation of my impressions of this morning?" 

" Thy dream is a strange one, and rather saddening," replied Martha. 
" But rest assured my dear sister, it has no connection with future 
events. According to my experience, I find dreams to be the result 
of our previous state of mind and affections. They are the pictures of 
our private thoughts and feelings, according to our past impressions ; 
and consequently are not, as is commonly believed, to be the good or 
bad omens of future events." 

" Thou art an unbeliever of the prognostic power of dreams, also," 
said Mary, reprovingly. 

"The fact is, my dear sister," returned Martha, as she imprinted 
another kiss upon the cheek of Mary, "we must look into ourselves 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 07 

for the causes and nature of our dreams. Now if it were possible for 
me to know all the little secrets of thy mind, — all the affections of thy 
little heart, — and all the mysterious impulses of thy soul, then I should 
be enabled to explain thy dream in all its parts." 

Mary heaved a deep sigh, and her eyelids drooped. 

" Now my dear sister," added Martha in a lively tone, "as I have 
been so far a good physician, in pointing out thy ailment, let me con- 
tinue the good office, by advising thee to get married." 

"Married!" exclaimed Mary pettishly, as she raised her head and 
regarded her sister in surprise. 

"Yes, my dear sister," returned Martha, "marriage is the only 
remedy in such cases." 

" I think my sister Martha had better avail herself of the counsel 
she gives me," observed Mary curtly. 

"True, my sister!" responded Martha, "I have no objections to 
marriage, as regards myself; but thou knowest that I have made a 
| vow to remain single, as'long as our dear father exists, — I am bound to 
tend and care for him all his days, in the place of our lost mother." 

"And I have made a vow to remain single," replied Mary, with 

emphasis on the two last words, as a blush suffused her countenance 

and her eyes shone with greater brilliancy. Then raising her hand to 

her lips, she kissed the ring upon her finger, which was noticed by 

) Martha. 

"Is it possible my dear sister," said Martha, inquiringly, "that thy 
mind and heart still dwell so seriously upon the remembrance of that 
youth, who was thy companion and playmate so many years back? 
I should have thought that his absence for so long a time, would have 
effaced him from thy memory and affections." 

"Impossible! — never, never!" exclaimed Mary, as she burst into 
tears. Then throwing her arms around the neck of her sister, she 
continued to weep and sob for some time. At length, finding herself 
I somewhat relieved, she released her embrace and observed : 

" Thou didst not know that youth, Martha, — nor did I as I do now. 

There was something so different in Jose from all other young men 

that I ever saw, or have since seen. Far superior was he in personal 

j traits to all others of his sex. Most amiable and kind was he in dis- 

] position ; most graceful, grave and natural was he in all his actions. 

iWhen he spoke, his voice was a stream of harmonious music, that 

i moved my soul in sympathy with all his feelings and sentiments of 

ijoy or sadness. And there was a power in his clear, dark brown rye, 

that I cannot describe, though I felt it often. Whatever his harmonious 

voice spoke upon, seemed to be depicted within his brilliant orbs of 

vision; and as I gazed upon them, I would soon be drawn within the 

sphere of their mysterious Influence. All opposition, resistance and 

self-control would succumb: motionless and powerless the conscious 

soul became absorbed within his heavenly fascination, ! sister, sister ! 

shall I ever behold him again?" 

/ Mary once more threw herself upon the neck of her sister, when 

tears like crystal drops flowed afresh from her hazel eves. 

"Console thyself, dear sister," soothingly responded Martha, as she 



68 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

drew her sister closer to her breast, and endeavoured to chase her tears 
away with kisses ; for she was deeply moved with sympathy in her 
sister's despondent love. " Remember my dear Mary, that it is many 
years since that cherished companion of thy childhood left thee, to 
travel abroad. It is highly probable that he no longer lives upon the 
earth. Thou must cease to hope for , his return, and endeavour to 
banish that fond remembrance of him from thy memory." 

" Never, sister, never ! " replied Mary with great energy. 

Further conversation between the sisters was prevented, by the en- 
trance of an old man into the chamber ; who approaching the maidens 
with a hurried step, shouted in a loud voice : 

" Good news, daughters ! Good news ! " 

This old man was Lazarus, the father of the two maidens. He was 
small of stature, though of robust form, who seemed to have seen three 
score summers at least, for his long beard, thick moustache and arching 
eye-brows were perfectly white ;— beneath the latter, his small dark 
eyes shone with considerable vivacity, indicating that the zest and 
powers of life were not much impaired. . His nose was slightly aquiline, 
with prominent cheek bones; his complexion a dark olive, with a 
ruddy tint on the cheeks and lips, — giving assurance that he was in 
perfect health. With the exception of a few wrinkles across the fore- 
head and around the eyes, his age seemed to have borne lightly with 
his person. The general expression of his countenance was a lively 
shrewdness, and a capacity for worldly business matters; yet, when 
occasions called into force the traits of his nature, there were unmis- 
takeable evidences that he possessed true affection and kindness for his 
family, and a fair sense of justice, propriety and charity for all mankind. 

He was habited in a long, loose robe of dark brown cloth, with largo 
sleeves and a large silk girdle around his waist, in which he carried his 
purse of money. Over his left shoulder and across his breast, was 
wrapped his brown mantle. His legs were naked, but the feet were 
covered with coarse sandals, and his head covered with a close-fitting 
skull cap, around which was twined a figured shawl. In his hand he 
held a stout stick, which he used partly to facilitate his travelling over 
the rough, mountainous roads, and partly for self-protection. Such 
was Lazarus, — the father of the two maidens, Mary and Martha. 

"Good news, my daughters!" exclaimed the old man, as he rushed 
into the presence of his children, flushed with excitement and animated 
with joy ; but as soon as he perceived his younger daughter in tears, all 
the expressions of his joy immediately vanished, and those of alarm 
succeeded. 

"What ! my daughter Mary in tears ? What has happened, Martha?" 
he anxiously inquired. 

"Nothing, dear father, of any consequence," answered Martha smi- 
ling. "Mary has only been telling me some of her little secrets. 
Father, thou knowest what a little spoilt child she is— so full of affection 
—so full of sensibility, that her little overflowing heart has to find vent 
in tears now and then, whether of joy or sadness." 

" Come, my darling daughter ! " said the old man, as soon as he had 
diyested himself of his mantle and head dress; when raising Mary, he 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 69 

pressed her to his bosom and fondly kissed her. " Come! chase these 
unworthy tears away, and listen to the good news I have to tell thee." 

"Good news for me, father, say est thou?" inquired Mary, as she 
wiped away her tears, and looked at her father doubtingly. 

"Yes my dear, good news for thee, — for Martha, — and me, and I 
know not how many more," replied the father. 

"O! what can it be? Do tell us quick, dear father!" said Martha, 
anxiously. 

" Js T ow daughters, do not be in a hurry. I intend to make you guess 
in while," said the father, with the intention of arousing their curiosity 
and wit. 

"Perhaps thou hast made a good sale and purchase of skins. Is it 
•that, father?" inquired Martha. 

"I have done very well in that respect," replied the father smiling; 
: " but that is not my news. That is nothing ! " 

" Hast thou been honored with an interview with the High Priest?" 
inquired Mary. 

" Yes, I have, — but that is not my news. That is nothing ! " answered 
the father; when suddenly checking himself, he said "God of my 
Fathers ! what am I saying ? I must not speak disrespectfully of the 
. High Priest ! " 

" Hast thou found any gold, treasures, or jewels?" inquired Martha. 

" jSTo I have not, — but gold, silver or jewels are nothing in comparison 
to what I have found." 

"Then pray father tell us what it is thou hast found," said Martha 
coaxingly. • 

" I have found a man who will bring joy to your hearts, and peace to 
this house," returned the old man in a tremulous voice. 

"Who — who is he? Speak father, quick!" demanded Mary,"as she 
placed her hand upon her father's shoulder, and gazed intently into his 
eyes, with great excitement visible in her countenance. 

"Daughters," said the old man seriously, "I have found your old 
acquaintance and companion of your youth, — Jose" of Nazareth!" 

" Our long lost Jose ! " exclaimed Martha in astonishment. 

" The same," replied the father. 

" O ! father, father ! — Mary has fainted !" exclaimed Martha in afYright. 

The previous sad emotions and gloomy anticipations, followed by the 

unexpected joyful tidings, were too overpowering for the great sensi- 

| bility of the fair maiden of Bethany. For a few minutes, the nervous 

centres of her system were paralysed, refusing their accustomed offices 

to the heart, then all consciousness and power ceased for a time. The 

insensible maiden was laid upon the cushions in the alcove, and the 

distressed father stood over her, with tears of anguish in his eyes. 

Martha turned away with the intention of fetching restoratives, and 

i the servant maid, to give assistance; when, as she crossed the room 

and was about passing out at the door-way, she staggered backward 

uttering a shriek of surprise and joy. At that instant, a tall majestic 

figure crossed the threshold of the door, and stood before her. She was 

' struck mute with astonishment and admiration. 

11 Peace to all in this house ! " exclaimed a rich, manly voice. 



70 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Lazarus turned, and beheld his former youthful friend and neighbour. 

" Welcome to the home of Lazarus and his family ! " said Lazarus to 
the visitor, as he advanced and bent lowly before him. 

" Welcome to this house and all that is in it." Then pointing to his 
elder daughter, he added " My daughter Martha." 

" Martha, dearest maiden ! friend and associate of my youthful days, 
— Dost thou know me?" said the visitor in soft, persuasive tones of 
friendship, as he advanced with open arms towards her. 

Martha had been for some moments gazing in silent admiration of 
the noble person before her ; but as soon as she heard him address her, 
she recognized the voice : — she instantly rushed forward and embraced 
one of his extended arms, while he drew her to his breast and imprinted 
a kiss upon her forehead. 

" Jose! Jose! — my long lost friend and acquaintance!" ejaculated 
Martha, her eyes sparkling with exuberant joy. " Praise be to the God 
of our Fathers for the pleasure of once more beholding thee ! " 

The person addressed as Jose was a tall, handsome man, several 
inches above the full stature, who seemed to have just attained the full 
development of perfect physical manhood. His age was about thirty, 
or perhaps thirty -two ; though some persons would judge him to be 
younger, when viewing the perfect freshness and perfection of his manly 
beauty. The brilliancy of his eyes ; the transparency of his skin, — 
without a wrinkle or spot ; the rich carnation of his beautifully formed 
lips, — and the tinge of health upon his cheeks. His expansive, smooth 
forehead, through the skin of which could be easily discerned the frontal 
vein, the minute Ramifications of veins and arteries, and the mature 
development of the reflective faculties. His nose and mouth were of 
the most exquisite symmetry ; the former nearly perpendicular, and the 
latter small, expressive of the most refined and chaste sentiments and 
emotions of natural purity. His hair was of raven blackness, soft and 
fine, presenting a variety of shades as parted on the forehead, — falling 
in long natural tresses around his gracefully curved neck, and couching 
agreeably over his broad shoulders. 

His moustache and beard were of the same darkness as his hair — the [I 
former small, curling forward — the latter parted in two like a fork, of 
prominent and uniform thickness, reaching two or three inches below 
his chin. Beneath his beautifully arched dark brown eye-brows, 
vividly shone his eloquent eyes, expressive of wisdom and high aspi- 
rations of thought, with mildness, serenity and sweetness of disposition. 

The crown of his head was covered with a blue cloth, and a shawl of 
many colors entwined his brows. . His symmetrically formed limbs 
and body were covered with a long close fitting coat, with large open 
sleeves, reaching from the neck to the middle of the leg ; and around 
his waist was a girdle of several colors, from which it hung in graceful 
folds. Over his left shoulder and across his breast, drooping in folds 
by his side, he wore a green mantle. His hands and legs were bare, 
and his feet were covered with sandals. 

Such was the personal appearance of Jos6,— the early part of whose 
history, has been made known in Paul's confessions* 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 71 

" The blessing of God be upon thee, Martha/ ' replied Jose" to Martha's 
greeting. " In friendship and brotherly love, I salute thee." 

As soon as the greeting between Martha and Jose* had terminated, 
Lazarus, directing the attention of the latter to the insensible Mary, 
said to him in a dolorous tone of voice : 

"Behold my younger daughter, Mary. She lies in a swoon, — the 
emotions called up by a knowledge of thy unexpected return, were too 
powerful for her sensitive nature to control. O ! help her Jos6, if thou 
canst." 

Jose* cast his eyes upon the unconscious maiden, who, with the pallor 

of death in her countenance, and her symmetrical limbs extended, lay 

< stretched upon the cushions in the alcove ; and her inspiration being 

imperceptible, she seemed to have departed from this life. He placed 

J his hand upon his breast, as though he would check an emotion that 

suddenly arose within him, as he half audibly exclaimed : 

"Ah ! — my Mary ! " 

Then turning to Lazarus, he said in a soothing tone of voice : 

" Be not distressed, friend Lazarus : thy daughter shall soon recover 
to embrace thee." * 

Then Jose divested himself of his head dress and mantle, and kneel- 
ing by the side of the unconscious Mary, took hold of one of her hands, 
which he felt for a few moments. Then he placed his hand upon the 
back of her neck where he let it remain for a few seconds ; then drawing 
it gently over her shoulder and across her breast, let it remain for a 
short time over the region of the heart. This process he repeated, when 
certain favourable effects were produced. The prostrate form of the 
maiden lost all rigidity,— inspiration began to be perceptible, — the eye- 
lids and lips quivered, — her fingers began to move ; and at length her 
eyes opened : — again they closed, and again they opened. Then sud- 
denly rising from her recumbent position, she looked around her with 
an expression of astonishment, and said in a dubious tone of voice : 

" Do I dream, or is it real what I see? " 

" It is all reality, my child," answered Lazarus with joy in his eyes. 

"Yes Mary, my dear sister," said Martha, "it is a happy reality. 
Look up Mary, and see if thou canst recognize this friend." 

Mary raised her eyes towards Jose, on whom she fixed her gaze for 
some time ; then, suddenly rising from her couch, she rushed towards 
him and fell into his arms, as she exclaimed : 

" Yes, yes, — it is my long lost Jose" ! My long lost friend and com- 
panion of my childhood." 

She could say no more — for joy overpowered her. Her head drooped 
upon his breast, and she burst into tears. 

With gentle soothing words, Jose* reduced to a sober measure the high 
wrought feelings of Mary's ecstatic joy. Then general greetings and 
congratulations took place among all present. Refreshments of wine 
and cake were brought in and partaken of. They seated themselves in 
social harmony within the alcove, supported by cushions of silk, Mary 
being near to Jose\ Then they discussed in a happy mood the remi- 
niscences of the past,— when they were happy companions and neigh- 
bours in Nazareth of Galilee 



72 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Thus passed the first hour of this happy, social group. At length, 
Jose" was requested to relate his travels and adventures, from the day 
of his departure from Nazareth, — which he consented to do. It would 
be impossible to describe the spell of interest Jose" exercised over this 
innocent and honest family, as he proceeded in the relation of his ad- 
ventures and travels; — especially Mary, who was reclining upon a 
cushion by his side, and occasionally leaning her delicate arm upon 
his knee. How the music of his voice commanded and absorbed her 
attention while gazing upon his manly countenance, changing its ex- 
pression, according to the nature of his discourse, — filling her with 
emotions of sympathy in his behalf. How she gloatingly watched 
every minute motion of his handsome lips, as they uttered words of 
glowing eloquence, when describing scenes of intense interest. How 
her bosom would heave with painful emotion, when he described some 
of the hardships and disappointments of life he had encountered, and 
the misfortunes, vices and miseries he had seen others experience during 
his travels over the world. How her heart would rapidly beat with 
joy, and her eyes glisten with pleasure, when he related instances of 
pure love, charity, benevolence and justice among some men that he 
had seen ; and of his own noble endeavours to ameliorate the condition 
of mankind. 

Thus, held in rapturous thraldom, in listening to the intensely in- 
teresting adventures of Jos6, Lazarus and his daughters were uncon- 
scious that the sun had sunk below the mountain, until they found 
themselves in darkness; — when they all arose, and then passed into 
another chamber, to partake of the evening repast. 



VISION FOURTH. 

The Spirits slightly vary the previous scene, to one of solemn, tranquil, 
midnight grandeur. — A scene congenial to the sweet, sympathetic 
communion of lovers; in which long cherished, pure and holy love 
is mutually confessed. 

The dazzling orb of day had for hours disappeared below the horizon, 
and the less lustrous lamp of night was suspended high in the heavens 
above Mount Olivet, diffusing her silvery beams of tranquil light and 
soothing influence over and around the humble village of Bethany, — 
which, like an eagle's eyry, was perched in the cleft of the mountain. 

Within the vast expanse of the celestial vault, myriads of stars with 
ceaseless light, unobstructed by cloud or mist, contributed their powers 
to illumine and adorn the scene of night. The air was soft and agreeably ' 
tempered, — redolent with numerous agreeable odors, exhaled from 
trees, from blossoms, from healing shrubs and beauteous flowers. All 
lights were extinguished in the humble dwellings,— all was peace and 



JESUS OF NAZARETH 73 

quietness ; for all the worthy people, excepting two, had retired to rest 
from the toils of the day. 

With noiseless steps and hand in hand, that two emerged from the 
dwelling of Lazarus, crossed the enclosed yard, and entered the garden 
near by. One was a man of tall commanding figure and majestic 
mein, — the other, a female much less in stature, of delicate sylphide 
form, whose sparkling eyes told a tale of love and present happiness. 
Both persons were enveloped in their mantles, which covered their 
heads, shoulders and busts, as a means of guarding against the night 
dew. 

As soon as they had entered the garden, the female leaned upon her 
companion's arm, and her eyes beaming with pure affection, looked 
up to him, seeking an exchange of glances. The man, with looks of 
tenderness and solicitude, gently supported her delicate form, as in a 
voice sweet and musical, he poured into her ears words of sacred in- 
telligence, tales of interest, and declarations of secret thoughts and 
feelings congenial to her soul. As thus they discoursed, they paced to 
and fro the smooth walks belonging to this beautiful parterre, or under 
the fruit trees on the borders thereof. 

" Mary," said the female's companion, as he raised his hand and eyes 
towards the firmament with a serene expression of countenance, " does 
this scene not impress thee as being one of great beauty and magnifi- 
cence?" 

•'Yes Jose," replied the maiden in great sweetness of tone. "This 
scene of night is truly beautiful. This night seems to impress me with 
its beauty and magnificence, more than any night I have noticed for 
many years. I know not how it is — for I am of simple mind, not 
knowing how to appreciate such scenes of grandeur ; but I know that 
I have frequently paced this garden in the tranquil hours of night, and 
never have I felt as I do now. When I gazed upon the starry firma- 
ment, with all its glittering lights, and endeavoured to imagine what 
they were, I found my mind a blank, — I seemed to be 'an insignificant 
speck not included in any of the great systems of greatness and gran- 
deur. All things impressed me with a chill ; — the forest-covered hills 
and green sloping valleys seemed cheerless ; I felt a sadness of heart ; 
I found myself, as it were, alone in the world and unhappy. Ah ! how 
great the change, this day and night, since thou hast returned to me, 
Jose! Xow all things seem bright and smiling. My mountain home 
looks picturesque and beautiful. Mount Olivet never looked so gay, 
with her olive and fig trees — her orchards and vineyards with their 
luscious fruits. Even the red barren hills eastward down to Jordan — 
the dread Lake Asphaltis, and the mountains of Moab seem more 
cheerful to my view; while the humble dwelling of my lather 1 would 
not exchange for a palace. Ah, Jose] my heart is now overflowing 
with happiness so exquisite and ineffably sweet! Tell me, Joa6, how 
all this change is produced within inc." 

• As Mary uttered the latter part of her speech, her companion seemed 
to undergo great emotion, as though some feeling or sentiment that his 
goodnature prompted him to acknowledge he was about to reveal, yet 
prudence compelled him to suppress. His eyes became averted from 



74 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

the loving gaze of the fair maiden, and a slight tremor passed through 
him. After a few moments silence, in which he struggled to gain his 
composure, he replied with calmness : 

" Mary, I am happy to perceive that the reminiscences of our youthful 
days, are not obliterated from thy memory ; and that the brotherly love 
and pure friendship we formerly entertained for each other, burns as 
bright and as holy as ever in thy pure heart. That it is so, I am con- 
vinced from the pleasure and happiness thou dost manifest at my 
presence, — giving to thee that happy tone of feeling, which makes 
all things around thee appear so bright and beautiful; — it is the re- 
awakening of thy sisterly love and pure friendship." 

" Sisterly love and pure friendship ! '?■ exclaimed Mary, repeating the 
words of Jose* in a tone of aversion. " I have a sincere love for my 
sister, a deep filial love for my father, and a great friendship for all 
mankind ; — yet none of these are like unto the affection which I enter- 
tain for thee, Jose." 

"Mary, thou art all innocence and pure affection," replied Jos6, as 
he placed his arm around the maiden and pressed her to his breast. 
" Thy love is beyond all price, and happy will be the lot of that man 
who shall possess and enjoy it. I am aware of the tender relations 
that exists between us, — the claim and command I have over thy pure 
affections : yet Mary, there is a Being greater than I, who ought to 
command thy attention and share thy love before me. A Being who 
is the source or fountain of all love, under whatever form it is manifested 
on earth, — every passional emotion of love that vibrates in the heart, 
or thrills through the nerves, emenated from and once formed a part of 
that Great Mysterious Power which we all feel, yet whose perfect nature 
we know not. Let us then for the present, Mary, cease to talk of our 
egotistical love, and talk of Him from whom all love cometh." 

" Dost thou mean the God of our Fathers, Jos6?" inquired Mary. 

"I mean the God of the Universe, Mary," replied Jos6 sternly. 

"I have been taught," said Mary, "to believe in one Great God — 
Jehovah by name, — who made this world and all mankind, — who se- 
lected the Children of Israel as a choice and favoured people, — who 
sent his servant Moses to lead them from the bondage of Egypt, and 
then gave to him a table of laws, by which they should be governed. 
To this God I have been taught to render due homage, praise and glory. 
Such are the limits of my understanding thereon." 

M Mary," replied Jose* in a tone of gravity, and with an expression of 
solemn earnestness, " I wish not to shock the self-reliance of thy young, 
inexperienced mind ; but the love of eternal justice and immutable 
truth, as well as my duty to thee, compell me to declare that all thy 
conceptions of the Deity, which thou callest the God of our Fathers, 
are but so many gross errors, that have no existence in the nature of 
the True God of the Universe, who is the Master and Father of all 
things around us." 

"Errors!" exclaimed Mary in surprise and trembling. "Errors 
sayest thou, Jos6 ! Are not the words of our Priesthood, and of our 
holy books all true? They declare that there is but one God, Jehovah, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 75 

who descended upon Mount Sinai, and amidst lightnings and earth- 
quakes, made compacts for his favoured people." 

"No, Mary — no," answered Jose* emphatically; and his eyes became 

expressive of an aroused energy and zeal. " It is all imposture, fiction 

and lies, — so gross and absurd in their nature, that to connect them 

1 with the idea of the True God, is to utter blasphemy and wickedness. 

" The God in whom thou hast been taught to believe, under the name 
of Jehovah, is nothing more than a figment of the human imagination, 
bearing a correspondence in its nature, and attributes to the traits of 
character and peculiarities of man. The Gods as worshipped by man- 
kind, in every country and in all ages, have been represented in their 
natures, according to the gross conceptions of the people of the time 
and place. They are the ideal images designed by certain cunning 
men, to represent and account for the various mysterious phenomena 
of nature, of which man has hitherto been ignorant. Mankind in 
their primitive savage state, worship the phenomena of nature under 

* various hideous and fanciful forms ; and as they progress in their social 
relations and expand in mind, so do their Gods make a corresponding 

] change of form and attributes. 

"When a nation of people are savage, cruel, fickle and unjust, the 

' Gods of that people are the same ; and as the nation advances in intelli- 

\ gence, virtue and reason, their conceptions of their Gods make a similar 

^ advance. This relation between mankind and their Gods, has proven 

true in all times and countries, and is the case with the race of people 

of which we are. What were the Gods of our forefathers before the 

• time of Moses? Were not our forefathers ignorant savages in bondage 
' to the Egyptians, so void of intelligence that they knew not their origin ? 

Did they not render homage to beasts, birds and reptiles as their Gods ? 
Yes — such was their gross, grovelling state, and such their gross con- 
ceptions of the superhuman Powers ! 

"This state lasted for ages, until one among them who had been 
reared under more favourable circumstances, possessing some intelli- 
gence, vast cunning and a bold spirit, called his brethren together, — 
broke their bondage, and led them forth in triumph from their masters 
to seek a new country, where he could establish them as a nation. This 
was Moses, — who seeing the necessity of uniting his people by some 
powerful tie, seized the occasion to establish a new God. And what 
was this God — this Great Jehovah, but an ideal figment that originated 
in his mind, whose attributes correspond in nature to the character of 
Moses' self. A being of absolute rule— bold, terrible, cruel, vindictive 
and unrelenting; — possessed of firmness and weakness — of power, and 
yet impotent — of justice, and yet unjust — of love and hatred— of stead- 
fastness and fickleness — of intelligence, and yet ignorant — of truth and 
falsehood; and of all other qualities, some good and some evil. Such 
was the God established by Moses, and such Avas Moses in character. 
This God as established by Moses, was good for the people under the 
time and circumstances in which they were placed, as it was somewhat 
superior to their previous state of gross ignorance. But now the times 
have changed: there is more knowledge existing in the minds of men 
than before ; and the evils arising from this barbarous superstition, is 



76 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

more apparent and more grievous to bear. Therefore it becomes our 
duty to discard the relics of previous barbarism, and to lift up our 
thoughts in search of the True God of Nature." 

While Jose was delivering the preceding discourse, Mary continued 
to gaze upon him with the greatest astonishment, and with some degree 
of terror in her countenance ; it being the first time she had ever heard 
sentiments expressed so opposed to the education she had received. In 
the simplicity of her mind, she had never doubted, or questioned the 
truth or origin of the Jewish Theogony ; and had they been uttered by 
any other lips, she would have considered thern as the greatest blas- 
phemy : but coming from him, whose word she had hitherto considered 
as truth and wisdom, she felt confounded for a time, — not knowing 
what to think or how to decide ; whether to, renounce the belief to 
which she had been educated, or admit the truths, as delivered in 
Jose's words. 

For a few moments there was silence, in which Jose" gazed penetra- 
tingly into the face of the maiden, to discover what effect his words 
had produced ; while she was struggling to collect her thoughts, and 
regain sufficient composure to form them into words. At length, 
drawing closer to her companion and placing her right hand upon his 
shoulder, as she looked up to him with great seriousness of expression, 
she said in a grave tone of voice : 

" O, Jose ! what strange and fearful words are these thou hast uttered? 
Is it possible that thou art serious and true in all thou hast said ; and 
that all my education on these matters, is nothing but a system of error 
and imposture ? Is it possible that the great system of Priesthood and 
all pertaining to it, as established by Moses and continued to the present 
day, is no more than a grand scheme of imposture and knavery ? Is it 
possible that I— a true believer and humble devotee of the Great Je- 
hovah — know nothing of the True God of the Universe?" 

4 * It is even so," replied Jose* in a tone of great sweetness. " Let not 
the truths I utter affright thy young mind. Look at them boldly, and 
thou wilt find that truth is more inviting and amiable, when once seen, 
than error and falsehood, though the latter may be better known to 
thee. In that which I have said, I have spoken in seriousness, with a 
sense of its responsibility ; thou knowest I never speak otherwise. It 
is also true, that the Priesthood of Jerusalem's Temple, and all per- 
taining to it, are nothing but a grand scheme of imposture and knavery ; 
and that its devotees know no more of the True God, than the babe just 
born." 

"O! Josg, JosS!" cried Mary piteously, as reclining her head upon 
his breast, she clung to him as though for protection. " Have mercy 
upon my ignorance and weak nature. I have no reason to doubt 
thy words, for they have always had the power to sink deep into my 
mind, leaving there the impress of truth and wisdom. But now, dear 
Jos6, this discourse of thine has wrought me great uneasiness. I feel a 
void in my mind since thou hast destroyed the main structure of my 
education. I feel as nothing, compared to my former self. Do not, 
therefore, deprive me of those errors and false notions that I have been 
taught to believe sacred, unless thou canst fill up the void with some- 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 77 

J thing of greater substance and beauty. Give me at least, one idea of 
.that true God of whom thou hast hinted, but not yet fully spoken." 

;i I will Mary," answered Jose* quickly. ^'Let now all thy senses 
awaken to receive impressions from the beauteous and magnificent 
universe. Let thy soul open and expand its recipient powers, so as 
to embrace the brilliant truths which the phenomena of nature shall 
present to thee. Let thy spirit awaken and expand its wings, soaring 
with me to various realms, where the beauty, power, wisdom and 
magnificence of the Universal God are displayed." 

Jose then extended his right hand towards the starry heavens, and 
added in a tone of voice, calm and grave, as his countenance seemed to 
, be illumined with a sacred fervor, while the glance of Mary following 
in the direction indicated, was of an absorbing, solemn interest. 

''Behold, Mary! the vast expanse of firmament above and around 
us ! Kegard this beauteous moon, whose silvery tranquil beams serve 
as a lamp of night, to illumine this earth in the absence of the lustrous 
orb of day; and notice the twinkling stars, whose numbers are in- 
numerable — which not only contribute their share of nocturnal light, 
but give to the celestial scene a solemn beauty and grandeur. What 
thinkest thou, Mary, constitute the substance and nature of these 
celestial lights? In other words, what are they? " 

" What are they ! " exclaimed Mary in surprise at the question. "Are 
they not what our reverend Rabbi have taught us that they are? Is 
not the moon a great light to rule the night, as the sun does tho day ; 
and are not the stars so many smaller lights, like so many torches! 
attacked to the vault of the firmament, to light up and adorn the scene 
of night?" 

"Such is the answer I expected from thy innocent but misinformed 
mind, Mary," replied Jose in a tone of gentleness, though a smile 
slightly curled his lip. " But mark me : such a view of things is er- 
roneous. They are fabulous notions, taken from the mystical lore of 
the Rabbi. I, that have travelled and conversed with sages of many 
countries, have reason to know better. I, therefore, declare to thee, 
Mary, what thou considerest as so many lights to rule and adorn the 
scene of night, are so many suns and worlds, similar to the one we live 
in." 

"Worlds!" ejaculated Mary in astonishment, as she regarded Jose" 
doubtingly for a moment, and then, with stead}- gaze, she peered into 
the starry firmament. 

"Yes Mary — worlds!" resumed Jose\ "Worlds and suns innumer- 
able! .Families of suns, worlds and moons similar to our own! So 
numerous, that it would be as easy for a man to count the particles of 
sand in the desert, as to number the worlds that exist through the y:im 
lactent of universal space. To thy naked eve, these starry Luminaries 
seem no larger than a common torch; and according to the deep and 
profound Learning of the Rabbi, tfyey are represented as such: yet the 
smallest of them is nearly as Large as the earth we inhabit,- while the 
greater portion are hundreds and even thousands of tunes greater in 
bulk, of such vast extent is the distance of the nearest star, that a hint 
of the swiftest wing <-<>uid nol Uy the same extent of space m many 



78 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

thousands of years. All these suns and worlds possess peculiar mo- 
tions—giving the changes of night and day as well as seasons, which 
are continued incessantly to all eternity. Moons around worlds,— 
worlds around suns,— and suns, with their families of worlds, making 
a gradual revolution around some central spot in the universe. Within 
this central spot, we may suppose exists that Great Power— that Great 
Soul and Mind, which is the source of all life that exists throughout 
the boundless expanse of matter and space. He !— the Great God of 
life, of light, of love and motion ; whom all mankind feel and acknow- 
ledge, but whose nature and person no one has been enabled to define. " 
" What wonderful and fearful ideas thou bringest to my view, dear 
Jose!" said Mary in a tremulous tone of voice. "How different are 
thy conceptions of these mysteries, to that of our Rabbi ! " 

" Thou sayest truly, sweet maiden," replied Jose*. " The God of our 
Fathers, as represented by our Father Moses and his successors, was 
the creation of their ignorant minds,— possessing all the weaknesses, 
limited powers and turbulent passions of the people of those days. But 
the Great God of Nature— as I will represent him to thee according to 
my intuitive ideas— is a much different being to the Jehovah of Moses. 
"There was an epoch or state of things, when Time's rotations were 
not, (the innumerable worlds which now revolve in space were not,) all 
was motionless, lifeless inert matter. All matter was without form : it 
was dull, senseless and purposeless. All life, light, heat, love, and 
intelligence were concentrated within one sphere, which constituted 
the locality and essence of the Great Mind, or God of Life and Wisdom • 
who in lonely solitude, inactive lay to all without himself from time 
unknown, though he was surrounded by the chaotic elements. 

"At length, it pleased the Great Divine Mind to change this state to 
one of activity, pleasure and solicitude, in connection with matter, and 
then he planned the Creation. He allied himself in holy wedlock to 
the great mass of passive matter, infusing into it life and motion, thus 
constituting the first Bride, and our first Mother, Nature. Every atom 
of the chaotic elements was endowed with his divine essence ;— thus 
evolving heat, light and antagonizing forces. He said to himself: ; 1 
will inhabit universal space with suns and worlds, which shall be con- 
fined within due bounds of one to the other. Each sun shall act as a 
representative of myself, to control and guide a certain number of 
worlds, and each world shall be as a garden. 

Minerals shall be produced, giving place to vegetables— from which 
animals shall spring up, kind after kind; each improving in its nature 
through a series of many ages. At length, the races of beings shall 
ultimate in one : this one shall possess all the virtues of the preceding 
races, which shall give him the power to develope into a spiritual in- 
telligence; partaking in a degree of my own nature. He shall be a 
link between the terrestrial and the celestial ; and his life shall be con- 
tinued after deposing his terrestrial parts. His life shall be immortal, 
and his exaltation according to his merits. Thus, the Great God, de- 
signed by his alliance with passive matter to raise up to himself spiritual 
children, partaking of the terrestrial and celestial natures.' 
"The Great God then proceeded to execute that, which he in his 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 



79 



divine wisdom, had designed, The vast material elements nestled and 
smuggled with the infused life of divine love ; they bnrst and dispersed 
thronghont the vast extent of space,-forming themselves into suns 
world! and satelites, whose motions gradually submitted to laws of 
Trder and at length assumed the magnificent display of starry constel- 
lation's we now behold, comprising this vast expanse of ™ lverse ; 

"Thus Mary, thou must endeavour to imagine the mighty power, 
trreatness and wisdom of this Great God, who could and has done all 
Sse mTghtv works,-** words will fail to describe them. Compare 
he mightiness of this Great God, with the absurd and ridiculous rep- 
resentation of the Great Jehovah as given by our forefathers, who 
: waled a petty warfare with an Egyptian King to obtain the release of 
^forefathers from bondage. Consider how the Great Jehovah entered 
into a contest with the Egyptian jugglers, to see who could work the 
; greatest feat; the palm of success being at length conceded to him by 
• lis producing some vermin of the meanest and most loathsome kind 
. After all the display of his mighty powers, he could not bend the 
E-vptian King to his wishes, so he caused the Children ot Israel to flee 
bv night. Then he induced them to wander in the deserts lor many 
years searching for a home, where they suffered all kinds of depriva- 
tions and miseries. On the top of Mount Sinai, he declares hiinse f to 
' his people,-giving to them the Decalogue which he had inscribed on 
two tablets of stone ; and though it is said he made the earth and whole 
universe in six days, yet it took him forty to make the inscribed tablets. 
Under the guidance of this God and his servant Moses, our poor igno- 
rant forefathers wandered and suffered for forty years, when at last, 
thev were enabled to seize some land where to establish a home, by 
murdering and robbing the Canaanites. This God of our foreiathers is 
not onlv cruel and unjust to other nations, but he is lull of wrath and 
vengeance to his favourite people ; for at times, he slaughtered them by 
thousands with sword, disease and famine. 
« How great is the contrast, Mary, between the God of our forefathers 
^nd the Great True God, whom I am endeavouring to bring to thy 

comprehension." » 

Jose paused for a few moments, and regarded the countenance of 
Mary, to discover the effect of his words ; while she, raising her beauti- 
ful hazel eves, met his glance half-way. No terror or superstitious awe 
was expressed in her glance as before, when the name of Jehovah was 
mentioned; but the expression was indicative of rational thought and 
firmness, as she observed with a sober energy of voice : 

m Jose I now perceive that my education has been one of error and 
imposture. I now begin to comprehend some of the startling truths 
which thou hast endeavoured to impress upon my young, misguided 
mind Things which were taught me as sacred, I now begin to View 
in their true shapes and colors, as things of distorted imagination, 
ignorance and imposture. I henceforth discard all such absurdities, as 
lies and impositions! and I shall hold myself impressive to all the 
lights of truth, pertaining to the true and only God ot the universe. 
, " O ' Jose," added Marv after a slight pause, in which she drew her- 
' self closer to him, regarding him with » look of mingled love and 



80 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

reverence. " When I look upon thy noble person — hear the music of 
thy voice, and consider the wisdom of thy words, it seems to me that 
I am in the presence of one far greater than human. I feel a spell come 
over me, filling me with mingled love, admiration and reverence. I 
pray thoe, then, to continue thy teaching, — scattering a few more seeds 
of intelligence upon my simple mind, that they may take root and 
spring up like beauteous flowers, exhaling delicious odors, in honor of 
the Great God of whom thou hast been speaking. " 

"O! Mary," replied Jose in a tone of great tenderness; "pure and 
innocent as thou art, thou art worthy of the love of thy Maker ; and as 
such, art capable of understanding his nature. Thou art now enabled 
to perceive that the God as worshipped by our forefathers and our pre- 
sent people, is a figment of barbarous imagination, worshipped only 
by such as are lost in ignorance, and insensible to noble manhood. But 
the Great God of the universe is a Divine Father ; by whose divine love 
all passive matter has been endowed with life. His wisdom and good- 
ness conceived the plan, which extends from the time of acting, through 
all eternity. It was his divine essence of love, that united atom to atom 
in bond's of sympathy and holy wedlock ; from which sprang minerals, 
crystals, vegetables and animals of every kind, hue and figure. This 
ascending and progressive work of organization was prosecuted by a 
series of successive spheres of development, bound together by the 
bonds of mutual interest and dependence. The higher being developed 
from the combined energy of all the lower, until the powers of eacli 
sphere were developed to the ultimate design. When the organization 
of man became sufficiently developed and matured, it became qualified 
to receive the impress of the positive spirit of God upon the tablet ot 
its interior life ; by which he became developed into a spiritual intelli- 
gence, which constituted him an offspring of the divine essence of love 
and mind. It is thus, by the development of this interior spiritual 
intelligence, mankind became the children of God. When God's chil- 
dren can be no longer sustained upon earth, he receives them within 
his own mansion, under his own especial care ; where the elements otf 
their spiritual being become developed into a still higher state of per- 
fection, and they become more worthy of their Maker. 

" Yes Mary — the Great God I am endeavouring to bring to thy notice, 
is the father of us all, as well as the Life Spring of the universe. ,His 
inherent and unchangeable attributes are Power, Wisdom and Love. 
By his divine love, he felt the impulse to awaken and form all passive 
matter into the beauteous universe, as we behold it. By his infinite 
wisdom, he was enabled to plan and design it to go into operation ; and 
by his almighty power, he was enabled to put it into execution. By 
his fatherly solicitude for all that he had produced, he has controlled, 
and still continues to govern every thing in order ; with the hope that 
his magnificent works will ultimately redound to his glory and satis- 
faction." 

" Is the love that is felt in the human breast, anything a-kin to the 
love of this Divine Father?" inquired Mary timidly. 

"It is, though not in the same degree," replied Jose\ "It springs 
from lite same source, modified to suit every sentient being of the earth. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 81 

It comes from the divine essence of our Heavenly Father's self. It 
penetrates through all material things — thrilling throughout the being, 
and swelling the bosom of our mother Nature. The most minute atoms 
are brought into holy alliance by its divine sympathy ; and every germ 
of the vegetable world that bursts into life, expanding in beauty, kissed 
by the beams of light, and nursed by the honey dews of heaven, is 
conceived in love by this divine essence. Every creeping or aerial 
being, fly or insect, re-produces its kind from the same power. Every 
innocent bird with beautiful plumage that coos, bills and mates, is 
under the same divine influence ; and all other animals are bound to 
transmit their kind to succeeding times, by this process of love and 
parental solicitude. In mankind, there is a modification of this passion 
of love, which adds to his bliss and exaltation. 

' M The passion of love, with all other animals, is confined to the earth, 
dying out with the animal when it has run its course ; but in man, it is 
•not so. The conjugal love of man and woman, coupled with pure and 
holy desires, develope all the divine affections, which are necessary to 
man's happiness on earth; and when it is commingled with noble 
aspirations and exalted ideas — aspiring to all that is beautiful, lovely, 
good and magnanimous, then it will open to him an inheritance in the 
realms of bliss, after he shall have passed his terrestrial career. Then 
he enters the presence of his Divine Father, to receive a welcome to his 
new home and state of everlasting bliss." 

14 Oh, Jose ! — dearest Jose* !" exclaimed Mary in a fone expressive of 
great excitement, as she disengaged herself from his arms, and stood 
at a small distance before him, with one of her hands upon her breast 
and the other extended. Her whole person seeming to be wrought up 
to an ungovernable pitch of intense feeling. Her cheeks glowing with 
the vermilion blood; her nostrils expanding and quivering, inhaling 
deep draughts from the external air ; and her eyes gazing upon him 
with an intensity of love and suspense. After a few moments pause, 
in which she endeavoured to lessen the throbs of her heart, she added : 

" Jose, pardon me if I do or say anything unseemly in thy sight, for 
the subtle powers of my nature are now beyond my control. Eagerly 
have I listened to the wisdom of thy words, in bringing to my untutored 
mind a knowledge of the True God. Clearly and justly do I appreciate 
thy explanation of his divine nature ; — how his divine love is tne active 
principle which has brought all things into existence, — continuing them 
from age to age by the same power. With rapture have I understood 
that it is this same love that exists within the breasts of all mortal 
beings,— the ties that bind us to each other, — the parent to the child and 
the child to the parent, — man to woman, and woman to man. All this 
I can appreciate, therefore I know that thy words are true. 

"Yes, Jose\— For years has this subtle mysterious passion 
'nestling and growing within this breast of mine. From day to day, 
and year to year lias it been increasing in strength and parity : erav. 
for the happy moment when it should burst from its concealment, and 
declare itself to the object of its adoration. That moment is now, J 
1 1 will not and can not suppose that thou art ignorant as to whom my 
love is devoted ; for thou, with all thy wisdom, can easilv penetrate the 
6 



82 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

innermost secrets of my heart: yet from some secret prudence, thou 
hast delayed to call forth the confessions of my soul ;— therefore, I am 
compelled to declare that it is thou, Jos6, who is the object of my love. 
Think not amiss of me if I make this confession. If this love, as thou 
hast taught me, comes from the divine nature of the Great God of the 
universe, is it not holy, just and pure? And if it be natural to all 
beings of our kind, why should I conceal it ? If thou seekest for a love 
of the highest type, which shall open an inheritance for thee to that 
immortal blessed state of existence hereafter, of which thou hast spoken, 
have I not a just plea in defence of my love ? For all my purest desires, 
noble aspirations and exalted ideas are concentrated in thee. Wilt thou 
accept my love, Jose ? " 

While Mary was making her passionate declaration, Jose remained 
immovable, devouring with greedy ear the outpourings of her innocent 
and ardent love ; but at the termination of her discourse, he averted 
his eyes for a few moments, which he passed in reflection and recovering 
the equilibrium of his emotions. At length, raising his eyes which 
beamed with great tenderness, he replied in a tone of voice tremulous 
with emotion : 

" Beloved maiden, — the time, as thou say est, is come when the ties 
that bind our hearts together should be defined and understood. When 
we were children, strolling over the hills of Nazareth, we loved as chil- 
dren allied by the ties of brotherly affection ; but as we grew older, our 
attachment grew closer, more sacred and interesting, — then we termed 
it friendship. Since our separation at our native village, our attachment 
has become greater, deeper, more fervid and dependent upon each 
other for worldly bliss. Our hearts, though separated by distance, have 
communed with each other ; and our two souls have mingled into one, 
like commingling dew drops on a flower. Our desires, our hopes and 
aspirations have reflected each other's image. Our hearts have beaten 
in unison, and our spirits spoken with the same tongue. In all this 
there has been a rapture too deep, heartfelt and abiding in this myste- 
rious mutual feeling, to be expressed by the cold word of Friendship. 
What then is it but Love? " 

" Then thou dost love me, Jos6?" interposed Mary, in a state of thril- 
ling suspense. 

"With a pure and holy love, I love thee, Mary," answered Jose\ 
Then a wild, shrill shriek of joy was uttered by Mary, as she sprang 
forward and threw herself upon the neck of Jose; who with loving 
fervour, clasped her in his arms. 

« Some minutes elapsed in silence, during which the two lovers in close 
embrace, intermingled that mysterious magnetic aura, which under 
various external demonstrations, produce the thrilling sensation of love. 

At length, when their ecstatic feelings of joy had sonyewhat subsided, 
and consciousness returned to inferior objects of sense, Jose gently 
raised his head — after imprinting his lips for the last time upon those 
of the now happy maiden — and addressed her in tones of the greatest 
tenderness. 

" Mary — beloved maiden ! whose love is as pure and ardent as the 
rays of light emenating from the dazzling sun, — long have I anticipated 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 83 

itliis happy moment; and long have I feasted in imaginary bliss that I 
i should enjoy, when our mutual love should be made known to each 
other. But perhaps thou hast thought me remiss, or somewhat myste- 
rious in my conduct, if I loved thee, that I should be so long absent 
from thy side. Let me therefore explain." 

"Jose!" responded Mary in joyous emotion, as she threw her arms 
< around the neck of her lover, and gazed upon his manly countenance 
^with a look of fond devotion. "Jose, I have no complaint to urge 
, against thee. Since thou hast accepted my love and acknowledged a 
, return, I feel myself extremely happy ; — all my past grievances, anxi- 
eties and suspense are banished for ever; and I may say, that I never 
felt a pang during thy absence, that my present bliss does not more 
Hhan repay." 

J "Sweet maiden," replied Jose, "thou art worthy of all the joy of 

I which the human heart is susceptible. This I can declare in truth — 

Hhat ever since we parted at Nazareth, thy image has ever been present 

i-to me. Three objects have influenced and impelled me during my 

" wanderings in foreign countries, which I have ever considered as so 

many sacred duties. One, was to investigate and inquire as far as man 

i possibly could, into the nature of the Deity. Another, was to render 

i myself worthy of his love ; and the other was to render myself worthy 

■ of my Mary's love. With a knowledge of God, possessing his love in 

heaven, with my Mary's love on earth, I thought I should be extremely 

blessed. This has been my aim and achievement. But now Mary, I 

Jhave something to say that will not be so pleasant for thee to hear." 

Jose then proceeded to inform the maiden more in detail of the objects 
s of his pursuits during his travels; which were to discover men's no- 
tions or positive knowledge of the Deity. That a^er ten years' travel 
i and study, he had been enabled to gain considerable knowledge thereon 
— at least enough to infer that the Jewish system of theology and the- 
i ogony were base, vicious and absurd. He had, therefore, determined 
to return to his country, and would endeavour to enlighten his people 
as to the nature of the True God, and the vile system of things taught 
by the Priesthood and their books. 

| He told her also, that since his return, he had seen John the Baptist, 
who had invited and pressed him to receive baptism at his hand. He 
stated, that though he did not admire the character of John or his 
(doctrines generally, yet as to baptism, he saw nothing very objec- 
j tionable. He thought it might possibly have a good etfect on and 
among the people, therefore he consented that John should baptize him. 
After that, he intended to commence his task of teaching the people."^ 

Mary expressed her uneasiness at the prospect of being: again sepa- 
rated from the object of her love; but Jose soothed her tears and rea- 
soned away her objections, by telling her that he would not be far 
away, nor long at a time ; and after a while, when lie should have made 
some progress in establishing his views among the people, he would 
return to unite their loves in holy wedlock. 
Mary at length gave her assent to all Jose" proposed, — agreeing to wait 
f with cheerful resignation, the deferred time of their happy union. Jose* 
then stated that he must take his departure on the morrow for the 



84 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

neighbourhood of the Jordan, to prepare for the forthcoming ceremony 
of John's baptism. 

With a firm reliance on each other's love and faithfulness, — with 
joyous hearts at the present, and blissful anticipations of the future, 
the two lovers returned to the house, and separated to their respective 
chambers. 



VISION FIFTH. 

The Spirits resume their sway over ray susceptible mind, producing a 
scene of Jordan 1 s celebrated stream, and thence educe characters, 
incidents and dialogues of marvelous interest. 

Bethabara was the name of a shallow part of the river Jordan, which 
from time immemorial, had been used as a ford between the eastern and 
western banks ; with the exception of this particular part, the margin of 
this river, as far as the eye could discern, was adorned with the graceful 
oleander ; the low and weeping willow ; the fern-like tamarisk ; canes 
and shrubs of many species, decked with blossoms of gorgeous hues, 
emitting the sweet odors of an early spring. From this ford, on the 
eastern side of the river, a track or rough road lead up through ravine 
and gorge, over the vast ranges of barren mountains into the country of 
the Ammonites. On the western side, a road, after ascending the river's 
bank, stretched out in a south-western direction, crossing the broad, 
fertile plain of Jordan ; passing along many cultivated fields and vine- 
yards, decked here and there with clumps of trees, which generally 
surrounded the homesteads of the proprietors ; thence the road, extend- 
ing over hill and dale and gradual ascending slopes, led on to the city 
of Jericho. 

This ancient city was celebrated for its strong fortifications; its 
beautiful gardens and groves, which surrounded it, and for its excellent 
palm wine. On the eastern side of the city, a forest of pine extended 
nearly to the river, and on the western side stretched the Judean 
mountains, over which the road passed to Jerusalem. 

Here and there on the western side of the ford, was a rude habitation, 
generally used as a caravansary, for the accommodation of travellers or 
other purposes connected with the location. 

The sun rode high in the heavens — seeming from its position to be 
near mid-day. Many watery clouds crossing its luminous disk, miti- 
gated the intensity of its burning rays. The air was temperate and 
moist ; so that a multitude of people who had collected on the western 
bank, did not feel any oppression from the elements. Groups of people 
— generally of the poorer sort — between the river and the rising bank, 
stood here and there discoursing ; while others were reclining under 
trees, reposing on verdant spots. Others were partaking of refresh- 
ments at a house on the road side, close to the edge of the bank ; but 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 85 

the larger portion of the multitude surrounded a tall gaunt man, with 
flowing beard and bare head, who was elevated upon a small mound 
of earth and stones, preaching to them with a wild, Vehement eloquence 
accompanied by energetic and frantic gestures. This person was John 
the Baptist, who presented the same rude, wild appearance as before 
described. As he proceeded in his harangue, his dark tangled locks 
floated in the wind ; his long sinuous arm moved to and fro in rapid 
action ; his dark eyes flashed or rolled with fanatical frenzy and piety : 
and his loud, shrill voice struck terror to his hearers, — producing upon 
them a powerful effect, making them feel a compunction for their sins, 
and a desire of repentance. As he continued his preaching, the scat- 
tered people gradually gathered around him ; among whom, Saul and 
Judas were seen to approach closely enveloped in their mantles, who 
imingled in the crowd around the preacher. 

Shortly afterwards, two other persons made their appearance, some- 
what distinguished from the rest by their dress: having on long black 
robes, with white cloths twirled around their heads over black skull 
leaps, with long white beards ; — presenting grave and. venerable aspects. 

These persons proved to be two officers deputed by the Sanhedrim at 
Jerusalem,' to ascertain what .were the doctrines and designs of John 
the Baptist, which they were to report to that Body. The Sanhedrim, 
though deprived of all political power by the Roman Government, still 
''retained all authority over religious matters, and could inflict all their 
usual punishments, excepting death, on any person or sect whom they 
deemed to have departed from the orthodox theology of the Holy Priest- 
hood. As John, about this time, began to make many converts to his 
system of repentance and baptism, the vigilance of the Sanhedrim 
began to be aroused; so that they sent their officers to discover and 
make report concerning John's doctrines. These men having descended 
the bank, mingled among the multitude of John's hearers, without 
exciting any particular notice. 

In the meantime, John continued in his bold, energetic style to ha- 
rangue the people, denouncing the iniquities of the times, and the awful 
state of corruption that had crept among God's people. He pointed 
out the vast number of sins and derelictions of duty that were common 
'among them;— their heedlesness — their want of compunction and sor- 
row for their evil doings — their foolish reliance that their sins would be 
forgiven, provided they made the customary offerings at the altar of 
the Temple. "Thus they continued," John said — "from year to year, 
committing sins to be atoned for by their offerings, and making offerings 
that they might be at liberty to commit more sins, without improving 
in their hearts or minds, or making any nearer approach to God." 

John launched out in strong invectives against the" Priesthood of the 
i Temple, who received from the people the offerings of lambs, sheerj, 
'kids, beeves, poultry, oil and wine, and all the other good things of 
land which the priests love so well, yet pretend that they sacrifice them 
to the Lord, in order to turn him away from his wrath, and cause him 
to forgive the people their sins. He told them that the priest 
jugglers, cheats, knaves and impost* rsj who robbed the people of their 
offerings and devoured them, while the Lord got nothing but thegre i 



86 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

smoke and stench thereof as a sacrifice. He said the Lord was very- 
wrath at the continuation of such iniquities, — that he had punished his 
people by giving them over to a strange nation to be ruled, and that 
he would still further punish them, unless they reformed. He told 
them that the Lord desired a reform among his people, and that the 
Lord had revealed to him what that reform should be : — a perfect re- 
pentance of their sins, then a remission of the same should be given 
through the means of baptism, which should be in place of burnt offer- 
ings. John then wound up his discourse, by telling the multitude that 
all those who truly repented of their sins, and wished to have them 
forgiven, must follow him into the river, when he would administer 
the holy institution of baptism to them. 

John then descended from his elevated position, and with solemn 
gait betook himself to the river, followed by the multitude ; into which 
he waded a few paces until the water reached his breast. Then some 
of his disciples taking the hands of the first Sinner, who wished to re- 
ceive baptism, entered the water, leading him close up to John. The 
latter, in a solemn, impressive voice, then invoked the presence and 
mercy of the Lord, — declaring that the sinner present was sorely re- 
pentant of his sins — that he was willing to renounce the world and all 
its abominations, to enter into a new life of purity and righteousness. 
He, therefore, called upon the Lord to cleanse him of all his past in- 
iquities through the medium of holy baptism. John then raised some 
water in the palm of his hand, which he poured upon the head of the 
Sinner ; at the same time giving him a new name, telling him that as 
he was about to enter a new life, he must also bear a new name, so that 
he should be as much as possible withdrawn from his former self. 

This part of the ceremony being concluded, the disciples suddenly 
plunged the new convert under the waters of the Jordan, when he was 
withdrawn to the shore and handed over to his friends. The ceremony 
was performed upon another, and another, until a great many had 
undergone John's process of regeneration. There was a pause in the 
proceedings for a time, for no body else seemed inclined to accept of the 
new institution. Then John came out of the water and mingled with 
the people : among whom he seemed to be searching for somebody, 
with an expression of uneasiness in his countenance. At length, he 
came close to the two deputies from the Sanhedrim, — one of which, 
with an air of haughteur and in a tone of authority thus addressed 
him: 

" By what authority doest thou these things ?" 

John, regarding the officers with a bold and defiant air, replied "I 
would also ask a question. By what authority did Moses strike the 
rock in the desert, and give water to the Children of Israel to quench 
tfceir thirst?" 

" That was by the authority and power of the God of our Fathers, — 
the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob," answered the officer. 

"Even so it is with me," returned John, with a glance of triumph. 
" By the power and authority of the same God do I preach the repen- 
tance of sins, and give remission of them through baptism of water." 

The two officers seemed confused and confounded by this answer of 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 87 

Fohn's They knew not why he should not have the authority of the 
Lord for doing what he did.as well as Moses. They did not believe 
rohn had any authority from that source ; but if they denied it in his 
;ase it would be as easy to deny it in the case of Moses. They looked 
it each other with an expression of dismay, not knowing what to say 
? arther. At length, the other officer being less disconcerted and knowing 
:hat something must be said to support the dignity of the Sanhedrim, 
*aid to John, with seeming indignation : 

" Dost thou, rash man, presume to say that the law as given by the 
Lord to Moses and the Holy Priesthood his successors, is not complete 
and efficient for the government of his chosen people, but that he has 
made other laws and established other institutions?" 
" Why should I not speak thus?" demanded John. 
"Because," returned the officer, "that would be to charge the Lord 
&od Jehovah with inefficiency of power and changeableness of mind, 
which would be blasphemy." 

"Then if thou say est it is not so, thou art ignorant of God and his 
works," returned John with great energy of voice and gesture. " Did 
'not the Lord make heaven and earth, and all upon the earth, even to 
man ; which work he pronounced good, and blessed it?" 
| " Truly so," responded the officer. 

"Did not the Lord say," resumed John, "that he repented having 
made man and the earth, for every thing was evil therein and an abomi- 
nation in his sight, excepting Noah and his family? Did he not bring 
la flood of water over the earth, and destroy everything he had made, 
excepting what was in Noah's ark ? Tell me then, you proud, ignorant 
men, if this be not changeableness in the Lord." 

The two officers were thrown into the greatest consternation. They 
shrank back aghast from John, and knew not what reply to make. 

"Even so," resumed John; "as the Lord brought a flood of water 
over the earth to destroy the works of his own hands, which he once 
pronounced to be good, so shall he bring a new dispensation upon the 
earth, which shall destroy the Law, the Priesthood and the Temple 
] that he ordained to exist forever among his people." 
1 "What manner of man art thou, who speakest in this wise?" de- 
manded the first officer in a perturbed tone of voice, for he seemed 
somewhat afraid of John. "Art thou a prophet ? ' ' 
John made no reply, though he seemed inclined to do so. 
"Art thou Elias?" inquired the officer: but still John made no 
answer. 

"Perhaps," observed the other officer in a sneering tone, and with a 
contemptuous air, " it is Moses, or Micai, or Daniel, or Esaias, who 
speaks through his mouth." 

"Yes, scoffer! thou hast spoken truly in naming the last," replied 
John in a boisterous voice; his countenance expressive of great in- 
dignation, as the peculiar points of his religious belief or nionomaniaey 
burst upon his mind, arousing him to an uncontrollable phrensy. 
"Truly hast thou spoken, though thou didst not mean it. I ftm he, of 
whom the prophet Esaias has spoken, when he said * The voire of him 
that crieth in the wilderness : Prepare ye the way of the Lord.' " Then 



88 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

John, stretching out his hand, pointed to the road that led down from 
the bank above, added in a loud exultant voice: "Behold! the chosen 
of the Lord cometh ! The Saviour cometh, of whom the prophet hath 
commissioned me to speak ! He cometh to the baptism, yet needeth 
no repentance ; for in him there is no sin." 

At this announcement of John's, the officers and the multitude cast 
their eyes in the direction indicated, when they perceived the person 
called Jose, in company of a very young man, descending the bank 
and approaching the multitude below. The officers were very much 
puzzled and astonished, not knowing what to understand or think of 
what they saw or heard. But the multitude generally, having had 
intimations from John of the coming of some great personage, were 
not so much taken by surprise ; yet they all gave evidence of feeling 
an interest and curiosity on seeing the new comers. 

At length, Jose* and his companion made their approach — the latter 
being a very fair complexioned youth of about eighteen years of age, 
without beard or moustache, with golden colored hair hanging in long 
tresses over his shoulders, and confined around the head by a blank 
silken fillet. As they approached the multitude, no one obstructed 
their way ; but all, excepting the two officers, gave respectful saluta- 
tions. Some gave the common salute of friendship, by slightly bending 
the body; while others bent their bodies so low that their fingers 
touched the ground, thereby expressing reverence as well as friendship. 
John the Baptist left the officers, approached Jose, and bent in great 
reverence before him; then rising, he kissed him on either cheek. 
When this last incident took place, Jose observed to John in an under- 
tone of voice : 

" Brother John, it seems to me from the deportment of the people 
towards me, that there is something more than an ordinary salutation 
or courtesy shown. I hope thou hast not failed in the promise thou 
hast made me." 

"Master," replied John the Baptist submissively, "the restriction 
thou hast placed upon me has sorely tried me, but I have endeavoured 
to fulfil thy wishes." 

The restrictions alluded to by John, was the circumstance spoken of 
in the confessions of Saul, concerning the youthful career of Jose and 
John the Baptist. It was stated how that mysterious healing power 
was discovered in Jos6, and how John, being possessed of great super- 
stition and religious zeal, had considered Jose" to be something more 
than common humanity ; and how he had come to the conclusion that 
he must be the Messiah spoken of by the prophets. When Jose* dis- 
covered the sentiments of John, he endeavoured to convince him of his 
error, but failing to do so, he forbade him to mention anything of the 
kind in public. John promised to comply, but still remained firm in 
his opinions. Thus the two companions separated, and Jose* started 
upon his travels. 

When Jose* had returned to his country, he had an interview with his 
old companion, when he renewed his former restriction ; and by way 
of giving him encouragement in his religious pursuits, he promised to 
sanction the doctrine of baptism by receiving it at his hands. He also 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 89 

gave him to understand, that if he should break his promise, by speak- 
ing of him in public as the Messiah, he (Jose) would forsake him, and 
denounce him to the world as one bereft of his reason. Such was the 
understanding between Jose and John, at the time the former was 
about receiving baptism. 

"If thou hast been prudent, it is well," returned Jose. "But now, 
dear brother, let us proceed to the performance of this holy ceremony ; 
for, as I judge from the appearance of the heavens, it will not be long 
before we shall have a storm." 

( | As Jose* made this observation, he cast his eyes upward, when he 
perceived that vast masses of clouds had gathered around and com- 
pletely obscured the sun, which seemed to be well charged with electric 
matter, as they twisted and convolved with great commotion. Jose* 
then took the hand of his young companion who had accompanied him, 
and observed to John the Baptist : 

, " Let me acquaint thee with our younger brother. His name is the 
same as thine : John — the son of Zebedee of Galilee, an old acquaint- 
ance of mine." 

John the Baptist regarded the young man for a few moments with a. 
pleasing expression of countenance, though there was a slight roguish 
twinkle in his eye ; then placing his hands upon his shoulders he kissed 
and blessed him; and immediately afterwards, said to him in a 
whisper: "Do .not let him know that we were formerly acquainted." 
Preparations were now made for the baptism of Jose. John the 
i Baptist entered the river, while the former divested himself of his 
mantle, head dress and outer clothes, which were given in charge of 
his young friend. Then, two elderly men taking Jos6 by the hands, 
led him into the water; when the multitude, impelled by a lively 
interest, rushed forward to the river's brink. John the Baptist then 
called attention to the necessity of true repentance previous to baptism 
— even should the conformant not be of a sinful nature. He said "All 
mankind are liable to temptations and frailty; therefore a decided 
renunciation of the world and all its contaminations would be necessary, 
to insure salvation by baptism; — for without a consciousness of our 
weakness, and a desire of purity of heart, baptism would be of no 
effect. Therefore, baptism was to be considered as a glorious symbol, 
that we had defeated the machinations of Satan, and accepted the mercy 
and will of God." He then uttered a few pious ejaculations, — calling 

| upon God for his approbation of the proceedings — praying him to admit 

! the conformant to his divine love and confidence. Then he spoke in 
eulogistic terms of the conformant — of his many virtues — his noble 
aspirations — his desire to enlighten his fellow men, as to their errors, 
vices and sins — how he designed to devote his life and energies to bring 
all his brethren of the flesh, to a knowledge of the True God, that they 

! might inherit salvation. Therefore, as the conformant had renounced 
the world, and sacrificed all its interests with the intent of working 
man's salvation, he should give him a name in accordance with his 

I benevolent and meritorious design." 

I Then John took up some water in the palm of his hand, which he 
poured upon the head of Jose, and said " 1 therefore name thee Jesus. 



90 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Be thou the light of a new dispensation, which shall bring man to a 
knowledge of his God." Then the two attendants immersed the con- 
formant in the waters of the Jordan. In an instant after, a vivid flash 
of lightning burst from the deep masses of clouds, followed by a crash 
and a terrific peal of thunder, which rolled through the heavens and 
was echoed for many seconds along the ranges of the mountains. This 
occurrence affected the multitude in various ways. The generality 
being deeply interested in the proceedings enacted before them, paid 
little heed to the turbulence of the elements ; they were consequently 
greatly startled when the lightning burst so suddenly upon their view. 
Some immediately left the spot and hastened to their habitations on the 
bank to seek shelter ; while others, being struck with a superstitious 
terror, remained trembling and undecided what course to pursue. In 
the meantime, Jos6, who henceforth must be called Jesus, was led from 
the river by the attendants ; when, as soon as he had advanced a few 
paces on shore, he knelt upon the ground and entered into communion 
with his God. While he was in this position, a dark cloud which 
obscured the sun, was suddenly rent asunder, when the solar rays, like 
so many golden threads, streamed down over and around the head of 
Jesus. 

John the Baptist, who had remained standing in the river as one 
struck mute and powerless from the moment he heard the terrible clap 
of thunder, now rushed to the shore and hastened to the spot where 
Jesus was kneeling in prayer, exhibiting in his countenance great 
excitement. With his arms elevated, his lips quivering and eyes rol- 
ling, expressive of wildness and phrensy, he gave evidence that his 
mental powers were at that moment unbalanced and his monomania 
predominant. From the moment the thunder burst over his head, all 
reason, prudence and self-control left him. His wild superstitious 
visions, his stern bigotry, and his false, though indomitable sense of 
duty were powerfully strong within the deluded man ; so that he found 
it impossible to do otherwise than speak and act according to the im- 
pulses of his craziness. In the peals of thunder, he thought he heard 
the voice of Jehovah, confirming him in the idea that Jesus was the 
Messiah ; and in the sun's rays that poured down upon his head, he 
thought he saw the spirit of the Lord descending upon him. As soon 
as he arrived at the spot where Jesus knelt, he cried in a loud exulting 
voice : 

"Glory! glory! glory to the Great Jehovah! Great is God! He is 
Great and True — for this day hath he fulfilled his promises, as given 
through the mouths of his prophets. Glory to God ! He promised us 
a Redeemer — a Messiah, and this day has he made true his words. 
Behold, O Israel — behold my children, your Messiah ! Why should we 
be afraid to speak ? Why should we keep it hidden ? Has not the Lord 
declared to us in a voice of thunder, that this is the Chosen One to 
redeem Israel ? In the words of thunder I heard him declare, saying : 
i TMs is w,y Son; ' and now behold the spirit of the Lord descending to 
confirm his words!" John pointed to the beautiful rays of the sun 
that were streaming down upon the head of Jesus. 

Any further harangue of John was prevented by Jesus rising from 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 91 

his knees ; when covering his eyes with his hands and slightly bending 
his head, he seemed to be undergoing some grievous emotion. But he 
soon recovered his composure, when regarding John with a look oi 
mingled pity and reproach, he said to him : 

" John, thou hast broken faith with me : by so doing, thou hast sorely 
(grieved me. I pity thee and blame thee not ; but henceforth thou must 
not seek me. Peace be with thee." 

"Master," replied John, as he threw himself upon his knees before 
Jesus, " be not angry with me, for the Lord hath willed it so. I do his 
bidding, which has been foretold by the prophets." 

( Rain now began to fall in large drops, and the clouds gave indica- 
tions that a heavy shower would fall forthwith. The remainder of the 
ipeople hastily left the scene, and Jesus having hurriedly re-adjusted his 
dress with the aid of his young companion, left also. But there were 
two persons who did not seem inclined to follow the example immedi- 
ately; for wrapping their mantles closely around them, they took 

i shelter under a willow tree close by the river, and entered into con- 

iversation. 

I "Now Judas," observed one of the persons to his companion, " we 
are out of hearing of these fanatics. We can now converse ; but I 
must be brief in what I have to say to thee, for our time is precious. 
What dost thou think of the scene thou hast just witnessed? " 

j Judas cast his eyes over the countenance of Saul, endeavouring to 
glean what effect the scene alluded to had made upon him, before he 
would venture to reply ; and having satisfied himself, lie said " Indeed 
Sir, the scene has been an extraordinary one, and to me deeply in- 

j teres ting." 

" Judas," said Saul, with pleasure glistening in his eyes, " I tell thee, 
man, that I am more rejoiced with what I have seen and heard to-day, 

j than if I had found a treasure. I feel richer to-day than when I re- 
ceived my father's wealth. I feel like a fortunate miner when he has 
struck a rich vein of gold, who sees a prospect of gaining the object 

i of his wishes, and anticipates the pleasure and happiness he will be 
enabled to obtain therewith." 
"There were some curious incidents transpired, which a man of deep 

- mind could turn to his advantage, no doubt,-' remarked Judas, as he 

\ eyed his master with a searching glance. 

"Yes Judas," returned Saul smiling. "I think I have this day 
found materials with which to lay a foundation, upon which I can build 
up a structure suitable to my taste, talents and ambition. Yes, yes, it 
shall be so! I will convince the world of this and future ages, that 
Saul, the son of the tent maker, was not an idiot, a lout, or a dullard: 
I shall now begin to feel an interest in life, for I have found a stimulus 
to the powers of my body and mind." 
" I cannot imagine, Sir, the objects to which thy words allude. Thou 

> must be more explicit," observed Judas indifferently. 

"Not at present, my friend Judas," replied Saul in an exceeding 
courteous tone, at the same time, his left eye gave a slight twitch, 
"1 have not time to do so, my friend. I want bo call thy attention to 
that man, who was the last to receive baptism at the hands oi that crazy 



92 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

John the Baptist — that Jesus, as he is newly named. What thinkest 
thou of him?" 

"I think," replied Judas seriously, "that he is the most beautiful 
specimen of perfect manhood I ever saw ; and if his interior is as noble 
as his exterior indicates, he must be too good for this world." 

" Thy estimation, I think, is a very correct one," returned Saul ; " for 
I never saw a man that has aroused within me so great an admiration. 
I think he must be destined for an important career in this life ; and 
under such a belief, I wish to join my career with his, whether it shall 
prove to my praise or shame. Now Judas, the private services I wish 
thee to render me, are now to commence, according to the agreement 
we have made between us." 

"In what way oan I serve thee?" inquired Judas — "speak and I 
will obey." 

" Thou must follow that man," replied Saul in an earnest and im- 
pressive manner, " and endeavour to find out his abode. Then, thou 
must beg to be admitted into his service, or allowed to be one of his 
followers ; for he intends to be a religious instructor of the people,— 
giving them some new doctrines concerning matters which they and 
every body else know nothing about." Saul then placed a bag of 
money in the hand of Judas, and resumed : " Present this bag of money 
to him and tell him it is all the wealth thou possessest, that thou desires t 
to make it common stock, if he will allow thee to follow him to listen 
to the wisdom of his words. Should he consent to receive thee, then 
thou must find out all his ways, doctrines and intentions as far as 
possible. In all other respects, thou must exercise thy wit, to invent 
tales to suit thyself and circumstances, as occasion shall require. As 
soon as thou hast gained all the information thou canst obtain, before 
he can put any plan in operation, thou must come to me and learn 
my further wishes." 

Judas told Saul that he understood his wishes, and that he would 
fulfil them to the best of his capabilities. He then took leave of his 
employer, and hurried from the scene in quest of Jesus ; while Saul 
made his way to his residence in Jerusalem. 



VISION SIXTH. 

Again the mental scene is changed by the Spirits 1 supernal poviers, to 
one of midnight darkness; in which, the secret thoughts of men's 
ungovernable desires find vent in self-cofnmunion, or in plots, in- 
trigues and conspiracies with fellow conspirators. 

The dazzling orb of day had passed over the Holy City, and sank 
from view behind the western hills. The busy crowds of people had 
left the streets and retired to their homes to feast and rest, — recuperating 
for the toils and strifes of another day. The Holy Temple was deserted 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 93 

jj —the courts were void of priest and people; the fire of the hoh r altar 
lad burned down to embers, and the offerings of fatty smoke and 
^ Dlood no longer regaled the nostrils of the Great Jehovah. He, the 
e Srreat God of the Jews, was under the necessity of abstaining from 
bod till the morrow; while the Holy Priesthood — his imaculate ser- 
r vants — were at their homes feasting on roast meats of beef, lamb and 
! iid, and imbibing copious potations of wine and oil, which had been 
j wrought to the Temple as offerings to their angry God, to appease his 
I wrath. 

j It was night — about the sixth hour, when no one was seen or heard, 
• [lot under shelter, excepting the Roman sentinels who grimly stalked 
before the gates, along the battlements, and around the towers of Je- 
rusalem. Saul was in his chamber, which was a spacious and hand- 
somely- decorated apartment in one of the public inns of the city. It 
was lofty and wide — the floor being covered with a thick matting. The 
walls were hung with rich tapestry of red silk ; the entrance-way and 
a window casement were covered with blue hangings. On one side of 
the room was an elevated couch covered with purple stuff, with cush- 
ions of the same. Around the apartment, at equal distances, were 
marble pedestals, on which lamps Avere burning. In one corner of the 
apartment was a square piece of furniture made of precious wood, 
with several small drawers and doors, which contained articles of 
nrecious value, as money, books, papers, &c; and on one of the pedes- 
tals near to the couch, was a small, simple constructed vessel designed 
for the division of time, by means of water oozing through a small hole 
out of one part of the vessel into another, which may be termed a 
water clock. 

Saul was reclining upon his couch, but not asleep, in his night dress : 
consisting of a long linen robe of the purest white. Several times did 
he turn himself, seeking a more easy position, and each time endeav- 
oured to compose himself to sleep, but all in vain. Being so much 
impressed with the adventures of the preceding day, he found it im- 
possible to arrest his mind's continued flow of thought. A new life 
and augmented vigor seemed to have taken possession of him ; — a new 
field was open to his view for the display of his ambitious daring; so 
thai thought succeeded thought in rapid whirl before the conscious eye 
of iiis mind. Time! time! — that which he a little while before found 
so difficult to pass over, now, he considered to be one of the most valu- 
able things in existence. He wanted time to review all his plans, 
schemes and suggestions.- He wanted time to give them a trial— time 
to put them into execution ; and a long course of time would be neces- 
sary to achieve all he contemplated and desired. 

u Oh!" he mentally exclaimed, "had I possessed these ideas ten 
years ago, and persevered in the execution of them, I should have by 
this time been enabled to" realize my grand design. Fool that 1 have 
been ! thus to lose ten precious years, when I might have gained un- 
limited power among men and obtained an imperishable lame! Ah! 
that mysterious, handsome person 1 saw yesterday baptized by John: 
what a glorious career ho is about to enter upon ! With his noble mein, 
his well stored mind, and the persuasive eloquence of his voice and 



94 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

words ; — besides, that mysterious power he has of curing diseases, with 
his many other virtues — will gain him the hearts and minds of the 
people. He will be enabled to do much good, and thus immortalize 
his name, even should he not strive for self-aggrandizement. He is 
still young — seeming to be about my own age. Ah ! I seem to have a 
presentiment that his and my mortal career and posthumous fame, are 
some how dependent and connected with each other. Let me reflect 
further — I will search into the most obscure recesses of thought, until 
I find some way to accomplish my wishes. Farewell to sleep for this 
night!" 

Thus saying, Saul sprang from his couch, drew his robe closer around 
him, and then paced up and down his room with a quick unconscious 
step ; for his mind being so deeply absorbed in his reflections, his senses 
though receiving external impressions, did not transmit them to his 
brain. 

Having paced his chamber for some minutes, he stopped before the 
piece of furniture before mentioned. He opened one of the drawers 
and drew forth a vessel containing wine, of which he took a small 
measure full, then returned it to its place and resumed his pacing. 
Again he sank into the meshes of thought ; and as he continued his 
restless course, the workings of the outward man sometimes indicated 
what was passing within the interior one. At first, his glance was 
stern and fixed, with features rigid, as though he was penetrating the 
depths of thought, to discover the means to accomplish his design. 
Then a compression of his thin lips and restless motion of his eyes, 
seemed to indicate that difficulties embarrassed and puzzled him. Then 
the knitting of the brows and quivering of the lip, portrayed some 
fearful image had risen up that shook his soul with terror. Sometimes 
he would suddenly halt, when all his features betokened his surprise 
as a new thought sprang up unexpectedly ; and then a smile or frown 
would glide over his countenance, according as it seemed favourable 
or otherwise. According to the index of the water clock, an hour had 
passed as thus he continued to search, select and adjust his thoughts 
in some degree of order ; his reflections were then in a more regular 
train, and according to clairvoyant x>erceptions, were of the following 
cast: 

"At length," he mentally said, " I have worked through this chaos of 
thought, which at first seemed impossible to reduce to order. Yes, yes ! 
I see the course that is necessary for me to pursue to gain the cherished 
objects of my ambition, power over the minds of my fellow men, and 
fame that shall last during my life, and extend to future ages — a fame 
that shall be built upon assumed virtues, and the sacrifice of every 
noble principle. But ah ! — there are questions I ought to ask myself 
in all sincerity, before I proceed to action. Should I achieve all the 
desired objects of my ambition, will the gratification resulting there- 
from repay me for the labor and sacrifices I shall have made? Will 
the good or benefits that I shall give to society, compensate for the 
crimes I shall commit in producing them ? Such questions are difficult 
to answer, for no man can foresee the result of his own actions. What 
use then, will there be in hesitating? Why not content myself with 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 95 

the idea that the object I have in view is a glorious one, and leave the 
results to unforeseen chance? Why should I be afraid to enter upon 
this course, which seems to be the only one that will give me a zest for 
Life ? What is there to stay my progress ? Is it the moralities of justice, 
honesty and truth that shall cneck me? Ah ! ah ! they are but fictions 
ijthat bold and cunning men use, with which to cheat their neighbours 
to their own advantage. Is it priestcraft and religion that shall arrest 
and defeat me in my design? The first is an imposition by which the 
priests cheat the people, and the latter is an imposition of their inven- 
tion, with which the people cheat themselves. All the powers by which 
to people are governed, are impositions and tyrannical force. There 
jnever was a nation governed by any other means ; therefore I may 
-jonclude there never will be. What good would it effect to preach to 
an ignorant people of honesty, truth and justice? It possibly may do 
some good in a family, or small circle of intelligent men, but no far- 
ther. No legislator ever governed a people by such powers, and no 
history can be adduced as an instance. By what power did Moses 
{bring our forefathers out of the land of Egypt?— By the power of lies 
and imposition. By what power did he establish his system of the- 
|ogony and laws ?— By the power of imposition and the sword. By 
what power did our forefathers gain this land we live in?— By fraud, 
treachery and the sword. By what powers have all our previous mon- 
,archs, judges, high priests and magistrates reigned over us?— By fraud, 
treachery, imposition and the sword. By what power are we now held 
tributary to Rome ?— By the power of the sword only. Consequently 
we have now the most conscientious tyrants to rule us that we ever 
had. Why then should I be different from the rest of mankind? Why 
should I not follow the examples of all the illustrious great men who 
have preceded me, in our own and all other nations ? Moses established 
a belief in a wrathful and vindictive God, and a code of sanguina^ 
laws by lies and the sword. Why should I not destroy his system, and 
establish another of a milder nature by similar means ? Moses resorted 
to any means in his power to accomplish his ends— why should I not 

!do the same?" 
Saul halted before a mirror which was suspended to the wall, when 
perceiving his image, he seemed to address it as he resumed: "Yes 
Saul!— such is the nature of mankind— and of those in particular 
who wish to distinguish themselves by a bold, laudable ambition. But 
suppose my contemplated designs be achieved— suppose the time shall 
come when I shall stand in the zenith of exultant, successful ambition, 
will the changes in society that I shall have produced be of a worse 
condition than they are now? Will there be no amelioration? It is 
impossible! I am not so witless— I am not so callous of heart, with all 
j my faults, that I shall not strive to improve the condition of my fellow 
men. Let the result be what it may, society cannot be worse than it is 
'now." 

Then Saul, making an encouraging gesture to his image in the mirror, 

, his eyes beaming with pride and triumph, added in a voice of exultation: 

i "Onward! onward! brave son of Batluis! Pursue the course tor which 

thy nature has befitted thee and thy talents have enabled thee to achieve. 



96 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Be thou worthy of all power and greatness, according to thy noble 
aspirations. Let not dastard fear, or silly sentiment of refined moralities 
check thee in thy pursuit ; nor let mistaken sympathy prevent thee from 
striking low whomsoever shall cross thy path as an opponent. Let '• 

Saul's self-exhortation was interrupted by hearing a knocking on the 
outside of his chamber door. Hastily taking a lamp from one of the 
pedestals, he proceeded to open it, when Judas made his appearance. 

"Most welcome, dear Judas," cried Saul in a lively voice, as he 
inclined his person as though he were paying due respect to an equal. 

"How times and conditions do change in this world!" said Judas to 
himself, as he noticed his master's courteous deportment. "Two or 
three days ago I was Saul's bondman, subject to all his insults and 
caprices ; now he treats me as a free gentleman, equal to himself. I 
scarcely know how to speak or act before him, this change so confuses 
me. However, I must do my best and endeavor to support my dignity." 

"I have long been wishing for thee, Judas," added Saul. 

"Hast thou?" replied Judas, curtly, with an air of indifference, 
" Then why didst thou not attend to my summons sooner? I have been 
rapping for several minutes. Hast thou any body with thee? for I 
heard loud talking? " 

"I was merely addressing a few words to my own image in the mirror, 
for want of better company," replied Saul, somewhat ashamed at. con- 
fessing so trifiing a matter." 

"If that were the case," returned Judas, smiling, "thou and thy 
audience were very much of the same mind, and thou didst not fear 
much opposition." 

" Let us talk no more on such trifling matters. But tell me, Judas, 
if thou hast succeeded in the request I made of thee," said Saul, in a 
tone that seemed partly authoritative and partly persuasive ; for he was 
in a state of nervous anxiety, without the full command of himself. 
But Judas did not seem in a great hurry for communication ; for, taking 
a cushion from the couch, he stretched himself upon the floor, when 
placing it under his head and arm, he reclined himself at his ease ; then 
raising his eyes to Saul, he replied : 

"I have travelled from the white mountains near Jericho, Sir, since 
the sun has dipped into its watery bed ; the road was dusty and hard, 
so that I feel much fatigued — therefore, thou must not think of receiving 
much information from me, until a goblet of thy wine shall loosen this 
parched tongue of mine." 

"Wine!" exclaimed Saul, with a start, as though he had suddenly 
discovered that he had been forgetful of the respect due to his visitor. 
Then he hastened across the chamber, thrust open the private recess, 
and immediately brought forward the vessel containing the wine and 
two goblets, which he placed upon a small stand, close to Judas. The 
latter immediately filled a goblet and drank off' its contents at one long 
draught — which, from the working of his features, seemed to have given 
great satisfaction ; then re-filling, he drank another more at his leisure, 
which seemed to restore him to his usual state of vigour, caution and 
speech. Having re-placed the goblet, he raised himself up to a sitting 
posture and observed : 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 97 

"Art thou sure there is no one within hearing ?" 
"Fear nothing; all is right; proceed," answered Saul. 
"Well, Sir," said Judas, "according to thy orders I followed the 
young man that John the Baptist had just baptized and given the name 
of Jesus; he was much in advance of me, but making inquiries of 
several who were returning from the baptism, I traced him into the 
white mountains, and came up with him just as he and his young com- 
s panion were about entering their grotto. He has a small dwelling built 
of stone, in the midst of a patch of verdure on the plateau of the moun- 
tain, about one hour's travel fr<^m the Jericho road— being a fit retreat 
for a student or a recluse, and a little more civilized in appearance than 
I the cave of John the Baptist. I accosted him in the most humble and 
j respectful manner, which he returned and invited me into his dwelling. 
,1 then proceeded to inform him that his person and character, so far as 
I had seen and heard, had aroused within me the greatest admiration 
and reverence, so that I had determined to attach myself to his person 
/and fortune, if he were willing to receive me as a servant, a follower, or 
,a disciple— as I understood he was going to travel about the country, to 
] ( teach the people the nature of true piety and the True God. I then 
threw my bag of money at his feet and begged him to receive it in sup- 
port of the common welfare. For a few minutes he hesitated what 
-answer to give me, as though he doubted my sincerity; then, again 
regarding the bag, he seemed to think that if I had any selfish or sinister 
end in view, I would not have risked my money; he therefore, after a 
Might deliberation with his young companion, whose name is John 
Agreed to receive me as one of his followers, and appointed me on the spot' 
mstodian and steward over all affairs of buying and selling. The ba- 
,he returned to my charge. I staid with him that night, gleanino- all 
:he intelligence I could concerning him, and helping him in counsel 
concerning his intended travels. I have grace of absence for a day or 
mo, which I devote to thy service." 

"Judas, my friend, thou hast acted discreetly in this matter," re- 
narked Saul, as he advanced to the former and kissed him on the fore- 
lead, with great semblance of true friendship, "Henceforth thou shalt 
>eto me as a brother; thou shalt share with me all my good fortune 
md my secrets. And whenever we encounter trouble we will Rive each 
ither assistance." 

i "Mutual interests and mutual dependence, make mutual friends " 
observed Judas, with a sly glance at Saul, and a slight curl of his lip ' 
j Thou sayest truly," replied Saul, with a slight laugh; "Now let us 
ake a little wine, and then thou canst tell me any discoveries thou hast 
uade, concerning thy new master, Jesus, as he is now named " 
They then filled their goblets with wine, and drank, when Judas 
emarked : 

"As regards the character of the man, from what little I have seen of 

im, I will vouch that he is every thing that his noble person indicates 

um to be. He is simple, plain and unaffected in his discourse ; he has 

well stored mind, and is a great admirer of every thing thai is bean- 

mil and true in nature, and there is no doubt that all his principles are 

Muuded in honesty, truth, justice and charity in all their phases. H* 



98 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

seems imbued with a true religion, by what I could understand, for his 
piety does not seem to be like other persons — consisting of creeds and 
formalities ; his, seems to be the reverence of the Great Author of our 
existence, and the practice of virtue for the benefit of his fellow men. 
He does not speak of God as a person, or in connexion with our people's 
history, but simply as the Great Power of Universal Nature. This 
makes me think that his God is not the same our Priesthood call the 
Great Jehovah. Whatever his ideas may be of God, there is no doubt 
in my mind that they are of the most exalted and rational kind." 

" There is no doubt that he is a high-minded, noble man," remarked 
Saul, in a serious mood; " It is a great pity that he is such." 

"How!" exclaimed Judas, regarding Saul with surprise, "Dost thou 
think that there are too many high-minded, noble men in this world 
for its good?" 

"No, that is not my meaning," answered Saul. " It is that I admire 
the principles of such men : but I know that their noble mindedness 
generally come athwart certain men of opposite principles, and then 
they are sacrificed to the interests and ambition of the latter. Now this 
Jesus, according to thy views, is one of those noble natures ; and thus 
it is I pity him, because I admire him. Now mark : although I admire 
this Jesus, yet if he should come athwart any object I have in view, I 
should consider it my duty to myself to sacrifice him. Dost thou un- 
derstand me, Judas?" 

"I think I do," answered Judas with a shudder; "but it seems to 
me somewhat paradoxical." 

" Did he give any explanation of what took place between him and 
John the Baptist, at the conclusion of the baptism?" inquired Saul. 

" I think he made me sensible of the true state of the case," replied 
Judas. "Although it is a matter of some intricacy, yet I think we can 
understand it — knowing what we do of the nature of John the Baptist. 
When we visited John in his cave, we found him to be a wild, super- 
stitious fanatic, who was under the delusion that he was commissioned 
by the Lord to prepare the way for the coming Messiah. This Messiah 
he said had come, and was to be baptized at his hands. We found 
afterwards, that the person he baptized and named Jesus, was the 
person he alluded to. Now it seems that this Jesus was aware that 
John entertained such ideas concerning him many years past ; but he 
being a sensible man, and one of the strictest probity, knew that there 
was no truth in any of those wild notions of John's. Pie therefore 
endeavoured to convince John of his error, but failing to do so, as John 
is really crazy on that point, Jesus forbade him to mention anything of 
the kind to the people. 

" During the absence of Jesus on his travels, the subject remained in 
silence ; but as soon as he returned, John again importuned him on the 
subject: and also, he desired Jesus to receive baptism at his hands, as 
he thought it would recommend the institution to the people. Jesus 
consented to comply with John's last request, provided the latter would 
promise to keep to himself his notions about the Messiahship. John 
finally gave his word that he would, and the baptism took place as we 
have witnessed. All went on well until the thunder, lightning and 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. Uy 

sunshine came, when John's crazy notions were again excited. 80 

3onvinced was he that he heard the voice of Jehovah in the thunder, he 

?ould contain himself no longer. He burst forth exultant — declaring 

;hat this Jesus was the Messiah the prophets had spoken of. When 

Tesus rose from his knees, he told John that he had broken faith with 

him, and henceforth he must not seek him to renew his acquaintance. 

" Such is the nature of the case as well as I can understand it. Jesus 

feels himself much grieved at the crazy declarations of John ; but he 

persists in denying or assuming any such pretensions; for he is too 

tionest and noble in his nature to palm himself upon the people for that 

which he is not. He said he was not surprised at John's conduct, for 

! he knew him to be crazy upon that point — therefore he can but pity his 

Wte." 

When Judas had concluded his narrative, there was a pause for a few 
minutes, during which he helped himself to some more wine, and Saul 
'remained in deep thought. At length the latter raised his eyes to Judas 
with _an expression of great sternness, at the same time placing his 
aand upon his shoulder, he observed in a serious tone : 

" Judas, we have made a compact between us of mutual assistance 
'and interest — the particulars of which we need not recapitulate : but I 
wish to know if thou art still of the same determination to fill thy part 
of the agreement." 
"I am," answered Judas emphatically. 

" Well then, I will open my mind clearly and distinctly to thee, that 
there may be no misunderstanding between us," said Saul as he erected 
limself— seeming to be relieved from a momentary suspense. Then 
placing the cushions one upon the other, he reclined upon them at his 
aase, and resumed: "When thou wast describing to me the character 
of this Jesus just now, I observed to thee that I admired and pitied 
him. In the first place, for his noble nature, and in the other case, that 
his nobleness of nature would render him adverse to others of different 
principles. I also told thee the duty a man owes to himself, when he is 
thwarted in his designs or interests. There is also another duty a man 
owes to himself, which I must bring to thy notice. When a man has a 
pertain object in view and wishes to obtain it, it becomes his duty to 
Wail himself of all opportunities, means and persons to obtain that 
end, whether it be detrimental to others or not ; for self-interest is the 
first and greatest of laws that govern a man of the world. Now it so 
{happens that this Jesus — though I admire his character and sympathize 
With his designs — is one, whose person, character and talents I can 
avail myself, to accomplish the designs I have in view: in fact, he is 
the very foundation upon which 1 can build up a structure that shall 
ensure my notoriety and future fame. The consequence of these mea- 
sures to him, I have nothing to do with :— it is sufficient far me to know 
thai in him, I find the means to accomplish my designs. I feel mv- 
justified by natural rights to seize upon them and use them to my 
purpose." 

> Judas started, and averted his eyes from Saul, which being immedi- 
ately perceived by the la iter, he observed : 
"Thou must not allow any refined sense of sympathy tQ intrrlVro 



100 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

with tliy action in any matter like this, where thy self-interest and 
safety are at stake. Such would be imprudent ; for it is a great obstacle 
in the way to the accomplishment of great deeds. Our worthy ancestors 
in the time of Joshua, when they took this land from the Canaanites, 
pulled down their walled cities, slew their warriors, plunged the sword 
into the hearts of the old men and matrons who could not fight ; ripped 
up the women with child, and trod the unborn babes under their feet ; 
dashed out the brains of children against the walls, and took the young 
maidens to themselves for their own pleasures — they were not deterred 
by feelings of sympathy in such acts as these." 

" No — nor by justice," interposed Judas. 

"Truly so!" responded Saul. "Many persons would think such 
doings of desperate wickedness ; but we ought to remember that our 
ancestors were in desperate circumstances. They were fighting for a 
home under captains and generals of savage, brutish natures ; besides, 
they were taught to believe that their Great God Jehovah ordered and 
guided them to do so. Had they been an enlightened and refined 
people, moved by moral sympathies, they never would have been 
enabled to do so ; they would have remained and perished in the desert. 
Thus we may see that their savage natures, their ignorance and lack 
of refinement, and all their moralities were so many virtues for them, 
by which they were enabled to accomplish their ends in view." 

" Saul thou art a great reasoner," remarked Judas, as his upper lip 
slightly curled. " I really believe thou couldst persuade the King of 
Ethiopia that he was Emperor of Rome." 

" Possibly," answered Saul in a gay tone, and he gave a short laugh. 

"Thou must attribute my powers that way to my schooling; fori 
recived my instructions from the Priesthood — Rabban Gamaliel was 

my tutor But let us return to the subject we have in view. I said 

that in this Jesus I find the means to achieve my designs. But how 
is this to be done ? thou wilt naturally ask. I will answer, in this wise : 
This Jesus is about to mingle among the people to teach them better 
morals, better views of religion, and a more rational conception of God. 
Now, as far as I understand this man, I think he is quite capable of 
doing all he proposes. His handsome person and amiable manners 
will gain the good will of the people ; his great intelligence and moral 
justice will arouse their attention ; and his mysterious power of healing 
diseases will command their admiration, conviction and influence: — 
consequently he will make many proselytes, and gain power over them. 
Now comes the important point to which I wish thee to pay attention, 
Judas. John the Baptist has taken it into his crazy head that this Jesus 
is the true Messiah as spoken of by the prophets, and that he is com- 
missioned to prepare the way before him. Now, although we know 
that this idea of John's is no more than nonsense, yet it is the very point 
on which hinges all my wishes and designs. The idea that Jesus is the 
true Messiah and the real son of God, I wish to be disseminated among 
the people, for I wish them to believe it. I would also like that Jesus 
himself would believe it, or would assume as much. I know the last 
two points are not impossible to achieve, if he were surrounded by 
gome cu lining interested agents. There is no man, let him be ever so 






JESUS OF NAZARETH. 101 

intelligent, if he possess a mysterious power of curing diseases as this 
Jesus does, who may not be persuaded that he is something more than 
human ; or if he cannot be convinced to believe such, it is yet possible, 
by appealing to his self-interest and aggrandizement, to prevail upon 
him to assume that he does so. Jesus we think to be a noble minded 
man, yet he may have weak points, and possibly may be overcome 
through them to our wishes. He also may change in his views of in- 
terest and prudence ; and in the course of time, through our influence, 
may consider it best to assume another character before the people than 
the one he now bears. His future conduct, therefore, will materially 
depend upon the influence exercised by those around him." 

" I begin to perceive the part thou wishest me to perform," remarked 
Judas, as he glanced at Saul with a sly, significant expression. 

"I am glad, my dear Judas," resumed Saul with great sweetness of 
tone, "that thou canst perceive my meaning. I therefore shall have 
less difficulty in suggesting all the points that will be necessary for the 
task I wish thee to perform." 

"If I understand thee rightly," remarked Judas, "thou wishest me 

in the first place, to follow this Jes*is whithersoever he may go ; then to 

: construe and misconstrue his doctrines so as to make them seem evident 

to the people that he is something more than a mortal man— in fact, 

that he is nothing less than the Messiah." 

"Yes, Judas— that is it precisely," replied Saul joyously, as his 
actions gave evidence of his great pleasure. 

" I think I can perform this task in course of time, with patience and 
perseverance," remarked Judas. I will mark all the available points 
I in his doctrines, as will admit of construction that will suit the end 
thou hast in view. And when he shall produce a cure through the 
means of his mysterious power of healing, I will magnify it before the 
people, and invent tales of others so great and wonderful that he shall 
appear before them as a very God. Such, I will disseminate far and 
wide, unknown to him. Besides, I will study out many other inven- 
tions to put into execution, according to circumstances. I will engage, 
that before long, the crazy notions of John the Baptist shall be more 
extended and believed in, than the doctrines of Jesus himself." 

"The very thing!" exclaimed Saul— the sparkling of his eyes be- 
j tokening his great satisfaction. "My dear Judas, thy wisdom and 
cunning is greater than that of Solomon, and thy services to me are 
inestimable. Whence did thou get thy schooling, my dear Judas? " 

"My schooling has been that of adversity," replied Judas gravely, 
" and my tutor was Saul, the son of " 

" Enough ! enough ! " hastily interposed Saul. " I am glad thou hast 
availed thyself of thy opportunities, and proved thyself an apt scholar. 

Depend upon it, Judas, thou wilt yet be a man of great notoriety. 

But to return to our subject. I must say, that I think thy plan of pro- 
ceedings to be excellent, and there is no doubt in my mind but that it 
will accomplish our end in view. With regard to our mutual interests 
and secrets, I think we understand each other." 

"I think we do," answered Judas, as he raised his eyes to his com- 
panion. Then the glances of the two conspirators encountered, with a 



102 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

forced expression of confidence and candor; at the same time, there 
was a suspicion of insincerity lurking in the heart of each against the 
other. There was a pause of a few seconds in the discourse of the 
companions, which at length was broken by Saul, who said : 

" Before thou takest thy departure, Judas there isanother subject on 
which I wish to consult thee." 

" Speak on, worthy Saul," said Judas. 

"I have been thinking," resumed Saul, "that when a man is about 
entering upon a great enterprise, in which he stakes his worldly reputa- 
tion, wealth and happiness, it would give him more courage and daring 
if he could be assured or foreshown that he would ultimately succeed. 
Although I have good hopes and prospects of my designs being suc- 
cessful, yet I would like to be made more confident by taking a glimpse 
of the future. Now, I understand that somewhere in the neighbourhood 
of the city, there is a Wise Woman or sybil, who is capable of foretelling 
future events. Art thou acquainted with such a woman, and wouldst 
thou advise me to task her skill ? ' ' 

Judas remained silent for two or three minutes with his eyes cast to 
the ground — seeming to be in deep thought ; but at length, turning his 
regard upon Saul, he replied : 

" I have heard that there is a sooth-saying woman somewhere in the 
environs of the city, but I know not where. Thou askest me my 
opinion on this matter — it is this : I would advise thee to question this 
woman : when she answers, I think it will be easy to ascertain whether 
her words are probable or not. If she should answer thee favourably, 
it would be giving thee confidence and great satisfaction for the present. 
I, also, shall be glad to know the result of things, for I am an interested 
party." 

"Then it shall be as thou sayest," said Saul emphatically. "Wilt 
thou find out this woman's abode to-morrow? then we will visit her 
together." 

" I will do so," answered Judas. 

The two conspirators then took another goblet of wine, when Judass 
took leave of his companion, and sought out another chamber to pass 
the remainder of the night. 



VISION SEVENTH. 

Again, the mysterious workings of the Spiritual World bring into being 
the counter-parts of external reality; presenting before the mental 
eye a scene, personages and incidents of the past, though unrecorded 
in the history of man. 

In a small, private room, at an inn of low repute, somewhere situated 
in the eastern extremity of the Holy City, Judas was reclining upon the 
mattress and cushions that extended along one side of it; beforo him f 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 103 

elevated about a foot from the floor, was a long board or table, covered 
with a dark, coarse cloth, upon which were several vessels, containing 
wine and cakes. At one end of the room was a door, opening upon 
a corridor leading to various apartments, and to other parts of the 
house, and at the other end was a window casement, looking into a 
yard in the rear of the building, where stabling for horses and cattle 
was kept. 

The furniture and general appearance of this room was of the plainest 
and most common kind, making no pretensions to anything but com- 
mon public service. 

Judas was reclining on his right side, supported by cushions, with his 
legs extended at ease, his eyes being cast downward and Ins brows con- 
tracted, seeming to be in profound reflection. 

"God of my Fathers! if God there be! To what awful fate am I 
doomed?" mentally exclaimed Judas, as he grit his teeth in agony. 
11 Is this the result and punishment of my youthful frailty. Frequently 
have I thought, while pining as a bondman, that could I once more 
obtain my freedom I would live a reformed man ; demeaning myself 
with that propriety which would gain my own esteem and stand right 
before God and man. But, now! how is it with me? On one hand, 
perpetual bondage, insult and misery; or, on the other, all my hopes 
and goodj wishes blasted — my soul sold to iniquity for the prospect of 
freedom and wealth! O, Saul! Saul! Thou art a demon in human 
shape ; callous at heart to all virtue and sympathy with what is good — 
thus to take advantage of my unfortunate condition, to make me the 
tool of thy cursed ambition. Is there no possibility of escape? Are 
there no means to shake off the trammel which are about to entangle 
me with the most damnable of wickedness? No! no! there is none. 
If I fail in the compact I have made with him, my life will be the forfeit, 
for I am the repository of his heinous secrets. O ! wretched, wretched, 
is my lot! But remorse and sad reflection will avail me nothing, I 
must submit to my destiny and endeavour to harden my heart, that I 
may commit acts which my sense of justice can not approve." 

Judas then sprang from his cushions ; seized the vessel containing 
wine, poured out a goblet full and drank it off. At that instant some- 
body on horseback rode into the yard ; when Judas, hearing the arrival, 
hastened to the casement and looked out, when he exclaimed, "Ah! it 
is Cosbi ; I must now shake off my gloomy mood and prepare for his 
company, for he is a merry, reckless fellow, who could not be made sad 
if all the people in Judea were so many Sauls." 

Scarcely had Judas finished His observation, when the door burst 
open, and a gaily dressed young man, with great exuberance of spirits, 
and a wild, merry eye, rushed into the room and sprang forward to 
Judas, when the two friends embraced by kissing each other on the 
cheeks. 

"My dear friend, Judas," exclaimed the new comer. 

11 Dear Cosbi," returned Judas. 

The person under the name of Cosbi, was a young man of about two 
and twenty, of a fair olive complexion, with black hair, eyes and eye- 
brows; his eyes shining with great brilliancy— restless and wild in 



104 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

expression. A small, black moustache, curled at the extremities, sur- 
mounted two pouting, coral lips, rather libidinous in their expression ; 
a carnation tinge on his cheeks denoted good health and vigor; his 
forehead was smooth, but not expressive of any great mental powers, 
— from which gradually inclined outward a delicately formed nose. 
Altogether, his features were more pretty than handsome, and his 
dress seemed to correspond. On his head he wore a cylinder-shaped 
black covering about four inches deep, with a large jewel in front; 
from beneath which his dark hair flowed in massive locks around his 
neck and shoulders. His coat was of light blue cloth reaching to the 
knees, fastened around the waist with a silk girdle of gaudy colors, open 
in front; beneath which a pink silk underdress was seen, fastened 
around the throat. His legs were covered with buskins of red leather, 
and his feet with sandals ornamented with studs of silver. His arms, 
beneath the wide sleeves of his coat, were covered with the silk under- 
dress. On his fingers were several gold rings, and a large pair in form 
of hoops were suspended from his ears ; and across his shoulder he 
carried a dark mantle. Altogether, he resembled a butterfly — light, 
airy, gay and thoughtless ; full of wild activity, sipping here and there 
the sweets of life, without suspecting there were any bitters. 

"Didst thou receive my message, Cosbi?" were the first words of 
Judas, after embracing his friend. 

"Indeed I did," replied Cosbi with a laugh, "or how should I be 
here ? When I did so, I was so anxious to see thee that I immediately 
asked permission of the Seeress, having obtained which, I took horse 
and galloped over hill and dale at the risk of killing the poor beast. 
When I came to the old wall of the city, I felt inclined to leap over it, 
but remembering that it is over seven hundred feet high from the bot- 
tom of the valley to the top, I thought I could not do it at one leap, so 
I was obliged to take time and enter by the gate, and here I am," 

" Well, and how dost thou and the world agree," said Judas, affecting 
gaiety of mood ; " I see from thy gay and merry appearance, thou hast 
not much cause for weeping." 
" My dear Judas ! didst thou ever see me weep?" 
" I think not," replied Judas. 

"No," said Cosbi with assumed gravity; "Before such a doleful 

event could happen, all the aquous vapors of this world must dissolve 

to waters of agony ; and then by some mysterious power, I must be 

compelled to imbibe them all : and then I must be squeezed tight in 

the hand of a horrid fate, before a tear could be forced from my eyes." 

" Thy expression speaks more of poetic extravagance, than sound 

worldly philosophy," returned Judas; "But come, let us take some 

wine and be seated, then we can talk at our ease." 

The two friends accordingly took wine and seated themselves. 

"Ah ! that wine is good," said Cosbi ; " I would rather have a draught 

of that wine than all the philosophy in the world. I despise all those 

abstract, refined and grave speculations called philosophies; and the 

various schemes of ambition, by which men are withdrawn from true 

enjoyment, to seek after ideal ones that end in disappointment and 

misery. I do not speak thus from my own exj>erience of them, but 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 105 

from what I see in others. All these pursuits of men under the names 
of philosophy, religion and metaphysics, are only so many spurs to 
f their ambition for knowledge, power, fame, titles, glory and aggran- 
dizement above their fellow men, which carry with them cares and 
anxieties, and disappointment, sorrow, remorse and misery as the 
'results. I will not follow any of those pursuits, and consequently 
I shall be free from the results. I was born to live — I live to enjoy, 
and I enjoy to-day with the hope of enjoying more to-morrow.' ' 

"Are there no things or circumstances in which care and solicitude 
'are necessary before action, and regret, sorrow and remorse after 
action ?" inquired Judas. 

^ " Nothing of the kind with me," replied Cosbi. " I live for the day, 
and that is for enjoyment: I care not for the morrow or its results. I 
act to-day with the best intent — that is, to enjoy, and care not how it 
may affect others. I think and act for myself, and others must do the 
same. I take all things for the best, and see nothing the reverse. Like 
a moth or butterfly I flit to and fro — from one flower I sip, I say it is 
good ; I go to another, and say it is excellent ; I sip of another, and say 
it is better than all. Thus I am continually changing my enjoyments, 
and with every change I am better pleased. What is the world for but 
for enjoyment, when a man is in the right mood, and not to be making 
one's self miserable in pursuing schemes of philosophy and ambition, 
f which end in nothing but disappointment, remorse and misery. Look 
at me! lam contented to have what can be enjoyed in this world— 
1 such as gay clothes, fair maidens, good food and wine, an agreeable 
companion or two, and a contemplation of all the beauties and poetry 
of nature. Such as these I seek, and such I enjoy — in fact, Judas, the 
generality of men know not how to live : they forsake the good tilings 
they can obtain, and run after that which is ideal and delusive. Come, 
let us once more taste this delicious vintage, and then tell me how the 
! world fares with thee, for I forgot to ask thee before. I see that some 
change has occurred with thee, for thou makest another appearance to 
that which I saw thee when last present." 

"Yes, Cosbi, responded Judas, "there has been a change in my cir- 
cumstances since I saw thee last. I was then a bondman, and now I 
am a freeman, or taught to believe so." 

" That is good ! " observed Cosbi, evidently pleased ; and then he said 
"Art thou still with thy former master ?" 

" I am acting for him in a certain business as Ins agent, for which he 
remunerates me well," replied Judas. 

" That is good also ! " remarked Cosbi. 

"But," resumed Judas, "I am about serving a new master, from 
whom I get no pay." 

" That is strange ! " remarked Cosbi; "But perhaps thou hast some- 
thing good in prospect." 

"I will explain all that presently," answered Judas; "But now toll 
me how thou likest thy oflice as page to the Seeress." 

"Ah! my dear Judas!" said Cosbi, as a slight change came over his 
merry countenance. "The time I have passed with my kind mistress 
has been an interesting time to me. Her confidence in mo is great, and 



106 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

her kindness knows no bounds. I have learned more of human nature 
and the secrets of persons, than I ever knew before, since I have been 
in her service. I have pryed into the philosophies, religion, morals and 
ambitions of all classes of men, and found them all to be hollow and 
false ; from which I have constructed a philosophy of my own to suit 
myself.'' 

"I thought," replied Judas, "thou didst denounce all philosophy 
just now." 

"And so I do," answered Cosbi, " — All except my own, which is 
simply this : That I believe nothing as it is represented to be, but take 
every thing as it is. If thou wert in my office, thou wouldst be initi- 
ated into this species of wisdom, and discover its beauties, truth and 
value. To speak in confidence to thee, my dear Judas, the system of 
soothsaying, as foretelling future events, which is followed by my 
amiable mistress, is no more than a system of cunning imposition." 

"Such I always judged to be the case," remarked Judas. 

"Yes, it is true that it is imposition on the credulity of fools," re- 
sumed Cosbi. " Though such is the case, my mistress does not follow 
it, like others, for the sake of the shekels of gold and silver. She has 
some secret design in it that I cannot understand, and a secret grief 
that I cannot fathom; on all other subjects, she is open and communi- 
cative to me. But that is not what I wish to bring to thy notice. Speak- 
ing of the secrets we acquire of persons, I will tell thee how we get 
hold of them. I mingle among families and persons of note under 
different disguises — learning their histories, relations, offices and pre- 
tentions, which are recorded in a book. If a stranger should come to 
ask questions, an answer is evaded until we can obtain some intelli- 
gence of him. Then the questioner, by the nature of his question, 
points out the object of his ambition or desires, which when added to 
the knowledge we have of him in the book, will enable us to give an 
answer with some degree of probability, if not altogether truth. This 
is the art of soothsaying. The fools that come to question us, gain their 
answers, and are more or less satisfied — we gain their gold and silver ; 
besides, we gain a knowledge of their true nature, which is generally 
in great contrast to their pretensions. It is thus that I have constructed 
my own philosophy : Not to take men as they are represented to be, 
but to take them as they are." 

"And what is thy estimate of men, according to thy philosophy," 
inquired Judas. 

"The greater part of mankind may be divided into two classes," 
replied Cosbi ; " The first, as fools and idiots — the other, as liars, knaves 
and monsters. There are a few exceptions which we may consider as 
good men, though they incline to one or the other of the classes." 

"Then in what class are we to include ourselves?" inquired Judas. 

" O ! my dear Judas !" replied Cosbi, somewhat puzzled by the ques- 
tion, which caused him to give Judas a peculiar wink, when he replied 
" We, of course, are among the exceptions a little inclined to the latter 
class." 

"O, indeed!" responded Judas laughing, "I believe there is some 
truth in thy philosophical classification. Thou art a merry and candid 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 107 

fellow, Cosbi : I was going to say knave, but I will not be so rude 

of speech." 

"If thou hadst done so," responded Cosbi laughing, "I should not 
have been offended ; for I always like to hear things called by their 
right names." 

" But dost thou think," observed Judas, " that it is a great pity for a 
, man of thy talents to be passing his time as a page to a Seeress ? when, 
if he would go upon the world, he could find offices of greater advan- 
tage, and adventures of greater interest." 
, "I have passed a happy and profitable time with my mistress," re- 
j plied Cosbi ; "But the truth is, I do begin to feel weary for the want of 
a change. In one respect, I feel my confidence and trust infringed 
r upon, as it were, that she will not discover to me the cause of her secret 
' grief, and the design she has in continuing the imposition of sooth- 
saying — which I know she despises, and does not follow it for the sake 
of lucre. If she would make all known to me, I should take pleasure 
in soothing her sorrow with all my sympathy and good offices ; but, as 
r she will not, I believe I must forsake her. I cannot live where there is 
sorrow that I cannot assuage." 

"Let us take some more wine, Cosbi," observed Judas, "and then I 
. will explain what I meant, when I said that I was going to serve a new 
master without pay." 

The two friends then proceeded to partake afresh of the wine ; and 
after a few minutes being passed in this indulgence, they continued 
their conversation. 

" The man to whom I was lately a bondman,"' observed Judas in a 
serious tone and manner, "has made me his agent, to carry out in part 
his designs. Part of my service will be to travel with another person — 
a very extraordinary man of great beauty, talents and virtue; who 
designs to teach the people of Judea and other countries, with the view 
of producing a general moral reformation. The intent is, that I am to 
watch his proceedings, and exercise my influence over him in certain 
matters which I cannot now explain. In filling this office, I shall want 
somebody to follow me at a small distance, whose services I can call in 
as occasions shall require to fill the part assigned to me ; and I know 
of no one more capable, as I think, of doing what I need, than thyself. 
If thou thinkest proper to accept the office, I now make thee the offer 
in preference to others." 

" What is the nature of the duties, or the part I should have to play?" 
inquired Cosbi. 

"I have heard thee say," replied Judas, "that thou hast been in the 
habit of disguising thyself and assuming various characters. I presume 
thou art good at mimickry." 

"There is no character or person that I cannot imitate, from the 
beggar to the High Priest," answered Cosbi, as he looked up to his 
friend with great curiosity. 

" It is well," replied Judas ; " But the persons and characters required 
by us will be more easy to imitate: such as blind, deaf and dumb men, 
cripples and madmen." 

" What a noble cast of characters thou givest me to perform ! " ejacu- 



108 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

lated Cosbi, bursting into a hearty laugh, " — and their costumes so 
expensive!'* 

" The more simple the character and less expensive the costume, the 
better," observed Judas. "But now thou understandest the task as- 
signed to the office, wilt thou accept? Thou shalt be well paid for thy 
labor and trouble." 

" Before I answer thee," said Cosbi, " I will ask thee a few questions." 

"Certainly," said Judas. 

"In the first place," said Cosbi, "this new master of thine — whom 
thou art going to serve as a spy' upon his actions and sayings, and be 
to him a counsellor of confusion — is going to preach to the people with 
the view of reforming them." 

" Yes, that is the idea he entertains," replied Judas. 

"Well, that is good — for the world needs reforming," said Cosbi 
laughing. " The Great Jehovah thought so himself, when he concluded 
to drown all mankind, excepting Noah and his family. But his ex- 
periment did not succeed ; for the first thing Noah did after the flood, 
was to get drunk and show his nakedness ; and his descendents through 
all the world need as much reforming as ever. But, as regards our 
subject, I presume thy new master intends to reform all classes, from 
the beggar to the High Priest and the Go vomer — making them all ex- 
ceedingly wise, honest, just and benevolent? Well, that will be glo- 
rious ! I hope I shall live to see it." 

Then Cosbi gave another laugh. 

" Such is the intent of this good man so far as his power will go," 
responded Judas. 

" I do not doubt it." rejoined Cosbi. " Then he intends to reform all 
lawyers, and make them honest — all doctors, and make them learned 
and candid in speech — and all amorous women and demi-reps, making 
them pure in heart and mind, if he cannot in body ? O what a glorious 
state of society we shall have! How I do like the idea!" and Cosbi 
laughed again. 

" He certainly will try to do all these things," said Judas. 

" Then he will endeavour to give the people some better ideas of a 
God?" resumed Cosbi. He will endeavour to establish one who will 
not tempt his people to commit sin ? One, who will not get angry with 
his people, and will not afflict them with diseases ; will not smite them 
with the sword, or destroy them in any other manner ? One, who will 
not require to be fed by earthly mortals with roast beef, mutton, kid 
and poultry ; and one that is not fond of oil, wine, frankincense and 
barley bread? O, Judas! when thy new master shall make this re- 
form, we also, ought to become pious and render homage to his God ! " 

" I think such a reform is needed, which my new master will en- 
deavour to establish," answered Judas. 

" Does thy new master intend to try his powers upon the Priesthood?" 
inquired Cosbi. "Does he think he will be enabled to make them 
speak the truth? To be honest charitable and just? To have a sense 
of noble, manly dignity ? To spurn all meanness, imposition, illibe- 
rality and fornication ? To do all this, will be to achieve a great work 
indeed ! I shall not be surprised to hear next that he has made a con- 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 109 

vert of the sun : putting out his light, and making him travel home in 
the dark." Then Cosbi gave another laugh. 

I "The Priesthood," observed Judas, "though the most infamous of 
humanity, may yet be affected by the preaching of reform. At least, 
my new master will endeavour to reach their corrupt hearts." 

"But my dear Judas," continued Cosbi in his questioning, "what 
does this reformer intend to do with the blind, deaf and dumb, the 
cripples and madmen? I do not understand this part of his reform." 
"This is an arrangement between my late master and me," replied 
Judas in a low tone, as he bent towards Cosbi. " The design of which, 
is to give this new master of mine a greater confidence in his powers, 
and to spread his fame among the people as one that possesses super- 
human power." 

" I cannot see how that is to be done," remarked Cosbi. 

i " In this wise," replied Judas : " This extraordinary man possesses a 

mysterious power, by which he can cure a great many diseases ; but 

i that goes only to a certain extent. Now I and my late master wish 

to make the people believe that this power is unlimited — that, in fact, 

he can cure the blind, lame, deaf and dumb ; besides crazy folks, who 

i are thought to be possessed with evil spirits. Now, if thou shouldst 

personate a lame man, and my master should say to thee walk, it will 

i- be easy for thee to do so ; and if thou shalt personate a blind man, and 

he shall say to thee receive thy sight, it will be easy for thee to 

do so." 

"Oh!" exclaimed Cosbi, as though something had suddenly hurt 
i him. Then puckering up his mouth, drawing in his cheeks, raising up 
his eye-brows and projecting his eyes, he presented a ludicrous figure 
fj of stupid astonishment ; which having indulged in for a few seconds, he 
relaxed his features, and added in a low tone of voice : " I see ! I see ! 
Why Judas ! thou hast cast the scales from my eyes : I was blind, but 
now I see. O what a brilliant idea ! It is worthy of its originator, and 
the originator worthy of praise. What an excitement will be among 
the people ! What glorious fun for me, when I drop my crutches and 
run at the word of command; or, when I open my eyes and stare 
around me, after being cured of my blindness!" Then Cosbi burst 
into another laugh and continued the same demonstrations of hilarity 
for several minutes, when at length he said : " I need scarcely say, my 
dear Judas, that I accept of thy offer, and will do the best to the extent 
of my powers, to render thee service. Thou must let me know when 
I am wanted. I must now return to take leave of my mistress, and 
study the parts I have to perform." 

Cosbi rose preparatory to departure, when Judas arrested his attention 
by observing : 

"Stay yet a few minutes, Cosbi. I have been so interested In our 
discourse that I had almost forgotten the principal business, oonoeming 
which, I wished to see thee. Let us once more partake of the wiDA, 
and then I will inform thee what it is." 

The two friends once more indulged in the vinous fluid, and then 
Judas observed : 

"My late master having undertaken this great enterprise, of which I 



110 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

am to be his agent, is naturally anxious about its results. He is de- 
sirous of knowing whether he will succeed in his designs ; and although 
lie is a learned and astute man, yet he is fool enough to believe in 
soothsaying. He accordingly desired me to inquire about a Seeress, 
who can answer his questions — therefore Cosbi, I sent for thee, to make 
arrangements for my master's reception by thy mistress, as he intends 
visiting her this night. As I feel interested in the answers thy mistress 
shall give to his questions, I thought it best to give thee a clue, that she 
may be enabled to answer him to his and my satisfaction." 

"My dear Judas," responded Cosbi, "I understand thy wishes. In 
the name of my mistress, I say we will be ready to receive thy master 
at the fifth hour to-night, and accord to him that mystic intelligence of 
future days, which as yet, is not conceived in the womb of time." 

The two friends conversed a little while longer concerning the items 
of intelligence that Cosbi was to convey to the Seer ess, to enable her to 
answer Saul's questions. Mutual secresy being enjoined, they em- 
braced and parted. 



VISION EIGHTH. 

Again, the Spirits exert their mystic powers over and within my mental 
sphere; selecting and arranging the images of thought, and with 
them picture the following scene. 

The dark shades of night hung over the valley of Jehosaphat, and 
the adjacent hills and ravines to the north-east. The progression of the 
stars indicated that it was nigh to midnight, and their twinkling light 
revealed the outlines of a large, lonely mansion that stood at the foot of 
a hill. All was dreary and lifeless without. Soon the facade of the 
building vanished before the mental eye, when a scene of singular 
beauty and splendour presented itself. 

There was a lofty chamber, octagonal in shape, with a pillar in every 
angle, supporting a concave roof. These pillars resembled palm trees : 
the spreading branches at the tops forming the capitals. Around the 
body of every tree, an enormous serpent twined the whole length from 
bottom to top ; its head with glaring eyes and forked tongue being 
surrounded by the foliage. 

The roof was decorated with glittering stars on a dark blue ground, 
and the walls were hung with rich drapery of light blue silk, which 
nearly reached the floor, bordered with a golden fringe. The floor was 
covered with thick matting, sfoft to the foot and noiseless to the tread ; 
and at four divisions of the chamber, between the pillars, were four 
couches covered with purple cloth, elevated about two feet from the 
floor. In the other four divisions of the walls were two doors and two 
windows, but all covered with the drapery. At four equal distant spots 
were four pedestals ; on the top of which were four lamps burning 
sweet scented oil. Over one of the couches thero were rich hangings of 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. Ill 

scarlet cloth, in form of canopy : the folds being looped aside, presented 
to view a female reclining in luxurious ease and pensive reflection. 

Presently she arose, and with solemn, stately steps paced the cham- 
ber in silent, pensive mood. Now and then she placed her hand upon 
her brows, or over the region of her heart, denoting the subject of her 
thoughts to be pregnant with anguish and sorrow. 

She was tall in stature, of lithe and symmetrical form. She was pale 
and haggard — seeming to be advanced in age more from the ravages of 
cankering sorrow than by number of years. Her hair, which once had 
been as dark as the raven, was now streaked with silvery whiteness ; 
being formed in bands around her head, over which was thrown a short 
white veil. Though her countenance bore the effects of time and sor- 
row, yet there were relics in her features which gave evidence that she 
once had been a commanding beauty. Her forehead denoted lofty and 
noble sentiments ; her nose of the oriental type, with her small mouth 
and gracefully curved lips, bespoke a spirit of firmness and one used 
to command ; and her eyes still retained a lustre, though subdued to a 
melancholy expression. 

Her dress consisted of a black skirt, hanging in graceful folds to the 
ground, slightly trailing behind ; over which a short purple robe was 
fastened around the waist by a girdle richly embroidered in gold. 
Pendants of gold in her ears, and a gold bracelet on her right arm, 
adorned her person; and her feet were covered with white slippers, 
curiously ornamented with threads of gold. Such was the person 
called the Seeress of Scopus. 

For some minutes she paced the apartment in solemn silence At 
length, being moved with great poignant emotion, wringing her hands 
and upraising her eyes, she ejaculated : 

" Great God of the Universe ! under whatever name we poor mortals 
adore thee ! Hear thou the humble petition of thy erring, though re- 
pentant child of earth ! Restore to me my long lost and neglected 
child, before death shall close my eyes to this world of woe and misery ! 
Let me see him, if it be but once, that I may declare to him his paren- 
tage! Forgive me the sins of my youth, under consideration of the 
repentance and sufferings of my after days ! Grant, Great God, the 
desire of my heart, and ever afterwards, with gratitude and humility, 
I bend to thy will ! " 

Having thus addressed the Father of the Universe, the poignancy of 
her feelings became subdued to comparative calmness; then, with her 
arms crossed on her breast and head bowed low, she continued to pace 
to and fro, as she communed with herself in a low tone: 

" It is all in vain ! — either there is no God of mercy, or he heeds me 
not. What will it avail me then, that I continue to beseige heaven 
with my prayers for God's mercy and favour, declaring my repentance 
and humility, if the boon I ask is forever to be denied? Is it not better 
to believe in a blind inexorable Fate, whose decrees it* not swayed by 
the prayers of mortals, are at least impartial and sometimes favourable 
to their wishes? For twenty years have I daily put up prayers to my 
God, asking for mercy and forgiveness tor my past follies and sins, and 
petitioning that he would direct me to the discovery of my child, but 



112 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

no mercy, no boon, no hope have I received after a penance of so long 
a time. I will pray no more. I will strive to steep my mind in ob- 
livion of the past, and become indifferent to the present and future. I 
will render my heart callous and insensible to the poignancy of my 
woes, the sense of my shame, and all the finer emotions of my nature. 
The raging fires which once made me the victim of libidinous desires, 
have smouldered and died out, and passions which once raged within 
my breast for the miscreant who seduced and deserted me, no longer 
, excite or burn within me — all have sunk into apathy. But there is 
another passion that has risen within me, more powerful than all the 
others — a Mother's love for her child/ Can I conquer or extinguish it? 
No ! no ! as long as I live its holy impulse will quicken and command 
me to search the world over, praying and crying aloud, in hope of yet 
beholding my beloved child. Ah ! " 

The soliloquy of the Seeress was interrupted by the drapery moving 
aside, when Cosbi entered the chamber; who making his approach, 
bent before her with great formality and etiquette, and said : 

"Sweet mistress, the worthy citizen of whom I spoke to thee, is 
come. He desires an audience, if it will meet thy pleasure." 

"Let him be admitted, Cosbi, and be thou in attendance," said the 
Seeress. Then Cosbi retired, when she observed to herself: "Again 
am I mortified, self-humiliated and self-despised in practising this 
system of imposture ; but as the love of a mother is holy, almost any 
means are justifiable, when they are devoted to the cause of her child. 
Thus I exonerate myself for imposing upon the ignorant and super- 
stitious people, who reveal to me their innermost secrets, when they 
think they are prying into the secrets of Fate or futurity. From this 
mode, I hope to find a clue to the discovery of my child. But now 
comes this Saul of Tarsus, to question me : Cosbi has given me the clue 
to his desires, and tells me that he is a cunning and learned man. Well, 
I must meet him with a bold front and great pretensions." 

The Seeress then returned to her couch, where she reclined herself 
with the abandonment of imperial indifference. 

Cosbi, followed by Saul, now entered the chamber ; when the former 
pointing to the Seeress, with a graceful bow to the latter, retired from 
their presence. 

Saul was closely enveloped in his mantle, so that his features could 
not be seen. He gazed around the singular and magnificent chamber 
with evident surprise and admiration, mingled with a great curiosity 
to discover, if he could, any traits of character of the Seeress in the 
novel scene around him. Having at length taken a general view of all 
around, he said to himself: "Here is wealth, refinement and a sin- 
gular taste displayed in this apartment. She cannot be a common 
imposter, who by juggling tricks, palm upon common minds her cun- 
ning answers as oracles from the Gods. No : she must be a true pro- 
phetess, who by an inward sight or intuition, can trace out the events 
of future days — for such I believe there are. However, I will test her." 

Saul at length approached within a few feet of the Seeress and bowed 
low before her, when the latter, rising from her couch, returned the 
salutation, and said in a courteous tone of voice: 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 113 

" Stranger, what wouldst thou with the Seeress of Scopus ?" 
"Art thou a prophetess," answered Saul in a sneering tone, " and 
:nowest not who I am, and what my business? " 
"Do the Supernal Powers take notice of mortals before they declare 
hemselves and their wishes?" replied the Seeress in atone of severity, 
,nd her eyes flashing with indignation. " Presumptuous man ! this 
nuch I know of thee without questioning the Supernal powers : thou 
.,rt rude and uncourteous to those from whom thou wouldst ask favours. 
Thou judgest others according to the measure of sincerity and virtue 
hou seest in thine own mind and heart. Thy ancestor and namesake 
? >f the tribe of Benjamin, of which thou art, was more humble and 
jiourteous to the witch of Endor, when he sought the information pre- 
eding the battle that sealed his fate." 

Saul started, and an indefinable dread seized upon him, as he said to 
limself, " By the God* of my Fathers ! she knows me." Then throw- 
ng the mantle aside, he humbly bent before her and said : 

" O Woman favoured by the Gods ! pardon my temerity. Not from 
,11 will did I thus speak or desire to be uncourteous, but from the pru- 
lent motive of testing thy genuineness, the veracity of thy wisdom, 
ind medium powers between the Gods and men." 

1 "Enough!" interjected the Seeress, feeling satisfied with Saul's 
fe vpology. •' Now state thy wishes, and if my powers can aid or satisfy 
v thee, I will." 

j "O woman! whose knowledge and power transcends the sphere of 
common mortals ! deem me not presumptuous or base, if I unfold my 
, mind and heart before thee. Man is a restless and discontented animal 
Jt^uU of fancies and follies at the best ; and when he is favoured by 
^circumstances to be placed above the common w^ants and pursuits of 
? men, it is then he becomes the most discontented with life. The general 
occupations and scenes of life become stale and flat: he looks around 
for something new to give him interest and occupation— such as shall 
[bring him honour, fame, wealth and aggrandizement. I pretend not 
to be superior to our mortal nature, by being passive to such ambitious 
impulses — for alas ! I feel myself too sensitive and desirous of worldly 
greatness. Such is my nature, and such my circumstances. To meet 
'the requirements of the one, and the deficiencies of the other, I have 
designed and entered upon a grand enterprise, which will procure me 
all the excitement and occupation so necessary to my nature. Besides, 
,1 anticipate that in course of time, it will procure me honour, fame and 
( glory. But mortals such as I am, cannot foresee future events. I feel 
! anxious to know the result of my endeavours; therefore, O Seeress! I 
j wish to acquire of thee a little information to the few questions I shall 
propound. In the first place, shall I succeed in the enterprise I under- 
take? Will my works and character gain the approbation of posterity ? 
Will my renown extend far into posterity? Such are the points to 
which I crave solutions through thy mystic powers: accord them to 
me, I pray, without diminution of the truth." 

11 It is not in my power to answer thee unaided," observed the Seer- 
ess. Then placing her hand in the bosom of her dress, she produced a 
gem of a light blue color and transparent, about the size and shape of 
8 



114 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

a hen's egg, which she presented to Saul, and added : " I must bring 
thee in connection with the Supernal Powers. Gaze upon that gem 
with all the intensity of thy vision ; and at the same time, call up in 
thy mind in successive order, the various parts of thy grand enterprise 
which thou designest to enact and establish, accompanied with the 
questions thou wouldst have solved. Do this, then the Supernals will 
take note of thy desires, and make known their answers through me ; 
then return to me the gem." 

Saul having received the gem from the Seeress, looked upon it with a 
fixed intensity of gaze as he revolved in his mind the various schemes, 
projects and achievements of his intended enterprise — at the same time 
the Seeress gazed upon him with a glance as fixed and powerful as a 
serpent upon its prey. Every slight motion of his eye-lids or quiver 
of his lips was taken in by her absorbing gaze. She seemed to have 
found an entrance to his soul, through which she peered, and stood 
spell bound in awful contemplation of what she saw. 

After a few minutes had thus transpired, Saul took his eyes from the 
gem, returned it to the Seeress, and observed : " The task is done." 

Then the latter crossing her arms upon her breast and gently closing 
her eyes, seemed to be undergoing a state of supernal inspiration. At 
length, returning to her ordinary position and regarding her visitor 
complacently, she addressed him : 

" Saul of Tarsus," she said in a low but distinct voice. Saul started 
when her voice fell upon his ear ; then he bent forward to listen — his 
countenance expressive of the most intense interest, as she added : " It 
has pleased the Supernal Powers to deign answers to thy questions 
through me, their humble servant, and thus I answer thy first query : 
" Thou wilt succeed in thy enterprise to a certain extent. The seed 
of thy enterprise will be sown, and thou wilt live to gather a part of its 
fruits." 

" Live to gather a part of its fruits ! " said Saul, following the words 
of the Seeress. " Well, that is favourable— it shows that I shall not be 
cut off in the commencement of my undertaking." 

"As regards thy second question," resumed the Seeress, "the answer 
is thus : Posterity will receive the institutions founded by thy labors, 
with greater reverence and esteem than of worth. Posterity will also 
highly esteem thy character as given to them, on which they will pay 
great eulogiums and praise. But thy true character will not be known 
by them." 
" Will receive with great reverence my labors," said Saul to himself. 

" Well, that is favourable But my true character will not be known 

by them. Well, that is favourable also ; for if they knew my real 
character, I do not think they would have much reverence for me." 

"As to thy third question," resumed the Seeress, " the answer is thus: 
Great will be thy renown through many ages of posterity. Millions, 
now unborn, will eulogize thee in singing thy praise. Institutions 
founded on thy doctrines and labors, will extend through many coun- 
tries,— even to nations not now in existence. Some centuries will 
elapse, and still thou and thy works will impress the world. But as 
all institutions established by men, however great, are doomed to 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 115 

ternal change, so the time will come when thine will pass away and 
>e forgotten.' ' 

4 " Some centuries will elapse, and still thou and thy works will im- 
press the world!" repeated Saul to himself. "Well, that is quite fa- 
vourable and glory enough! But the time shall come, when thine 
hall pass away and be forgotten. Had she spoken otherwise, I could 
Lot believe her." 

" Such are the answers, as I have received them from the Powers 
\bove. Art thou satisfied?" said the Seeress. 

" Great and sapient woman ! " replied Saul in a tone of great suavity, 
" Thou hast given me new strength and confidence in my undertaking. 
?he answers I have received are cherishing to my heart and enlivening 
b my mind, which bind me for ever in grateful remembrance to thee 
i.ndthe Superhuman Powers." Then Saul taking a purse of money 
mm his girdle and approaching nearer to the Seeress, he added: " Let 
ne, as a testimony of my thanks and satisfaction, lay this at thy feet." 
j" Then the Seeress striking upon a small metal basin that stood upon 
I fne of the pedestals near her, a shrill sound vibrated through the 
Chamber, when Cosbi immediately made his appearance. Saul, then 
faking a graceful obeisance, took his departure and was conducted out 
] Sf the mansion, where Judas was ready to receive him in attendance 
vith horses. 

L " That man is an ambitious knave," said the Seeress to herself when 
5aul was gone. " It requires not much assistance from the Supernals 
! o divine his ambitious desires and probable career — especially, as I 
•eceived a clue thereto from Cosbi. I can read his heart and mind in 
lis eyes." 

Cosbi again made his appearance, when his mistress beckoned for 
'iim to approach her : he did so, when she said : 

" Knowest thou aught of this man personally, and of his ambitious 
lesigns?" 

1 Cosbi seemed to hesitate for a few moments, but at length replied : 
1 1 know a little by report, but nothing definitely." 

"What is that little thou dost know? — let me have it, Cosbi," said 
lis mistress. 

' "My dear mistress," answered Cosbi, in seeming perturbation, "it 
Will be with great regret that I shall comply with thy wishes in tins 
nstance." 

t " How ! with regret? " exclaimed the mistress in surprise ; " what 

lost thou mean, Cosbi? Art thou not my confidential servitor, bound 

me by interest and gratitude to impart to me all thy secrets?" 

"My dear mistress!" exclaimed Cosbi with great emotion, as he 
took her hand and pressed it to his breast; " I must declare all to thee, 
though it distresses me to do so." 

The Seeress looked upon him in speechless surprise, but offered no 
opposition to his enigmatical conduct. 

" That man who has departed just now, has an agent in his employ, 
with whom I have engaged to travel and to serve." 

"Then thou wouldst forsake me, Cosbi!" exclaimed the mistress in 
Surprise and indignation. 



" 



116 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"I am sensible, my dear mistress, of thy kindness towards me, for 
which, I have endeavoured to show a just appreciation; but notwith- 
standing, I must beg to renounce thy service." 

" For what reason dost thou desert me?" inquired the mistress in a 
tremulous tone, as though she felt a painful emotion at parting with her 
faithful servant, for whom she felt almost as great an affection as for a 
child. " Tell me what there is in my service that displeases thee." 

" I will endeavour to do so at thy bidding," answered Cosbi ; " though 
to do so of my own accord, I should consider as trenching on sacred 
ground. Thou knowest, my dear mistress, that I am of a joyous na- 
ture, endeavouring to make myself happy and all others around me. 
I have imparted to thee all my secrets, and thou in return hast given 
me general confidence ; yet there is one secret thou wilt- not impart to 
me, which is, the cause of thy continued grief. I daily perceive that 
thou hast at thy heart a secret sorrow, and I can not mitigate it or give 
thee comfort, because thou wilt not impart to me its source. I have 
lived with thee in hope that I should in course of time prevail over thy 
delicacy, to become thy confidant, and be enabled to restore thee to 
cheerfulness ; but as all my endeavours have failed therein, I cannot 
remain here any longer to see thee suffer a pang that I cannot assuage." 

When Cosbi had delivered his last sentiment, the Seeress remained 
silent for some time with her eyes averted, seeming to be in a pensive 
mood and absorbed in reflection. At length, arousing herself to a sense 
of her position, she remarked to Cosbi in a mild but sorrowful tone : 

" Cosbi, I believe thou art justified in wishing to leave me— ^though 1 1 
must confess I much regret that it must be so. But as thou art. deter- j 
mined, a thought has struck me that thou possibly may do me a service, 
and at the same time pursue thy own happy course." 

"Any service that I can render my beloved mistress will only en- 
hance my pleasure," replied Cosbi. 

"I believe so, my dear friend — for such I must now consider thee," 
returned the Seeress sighing ; then extending the arm on which was 
the golden bracelet, she said to him in an expressive manner : " Look 
upon this bracelet, Cosbi — mark well the jewels with which it is set, 
and the workmanship." 

Cosbi examined the bracelet minutely — wondering at the time what 
could be her intention in drawing his notice to it. 

" I am now," resumed the Seeress, " going to comply with thy wish, 
on the eve of our separation — that which I have hitherto refused to do, 
by imparting to thee the cause, in part at least of my settled sorrow ; 
therefore listen well to my words." 

Cosbi was all attention. 

" Some years ago, there was a person on whom all my affections were 
concentrated. I will not state what was the tie or relation between us 
let it suffice to say that I loved that individual with as pure and ardent 
a love, as a mother could love a child. 

"Circumstances became such, that my beloved object was parted 
from me, and in his possession was the fellow bracelet of this — the 
precise counterpart to the one I now wear — and never have I seen the 
person or the bracelet since. Much have I traveUed and many in 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 117 

Iquiries have I made, but all in vain : no clue have I been enabled to 
trace of the lost loved one. As a last resource I adopted the art of 
soothsaying, and assumed the character of a Seeress, thinking that by 
•.■acquiring the secrets of the wealthy, I should be enabled to discover a 
*clue to my lost beloved one. As yet, I have been unsuccessful, and 
thus continues my sorrow without mitigation. This, so far as I have 
related it, is the cause of my poignant grief. Dost thou think, Cosbi, 
thou couldst recognize the counterpart of this bracelet, if thou wert to 
see it?" 

Cosbi expressed his belief that he could. 

" Well, then," resumed the Seeress, "as thou art going to leave me, 
to travel with thy new master, it is possible that thou may est discover 
the counterpart of this bracelet worn by some female ; or, thou mayest, 
i see it among the collections of those who traffic in such articles of mer- 
chandize. At any rate, if thou shouldst discover it, I wish thee to 
make inquiry and trace it, if possible, to the original owner. Shouldst 
thou make any such discovery, then thou must communicate the same 
to me, and possibly I may discover the person for whom I grieve, or 
ascertain his fate." 

Cosbi gave the Seeress repeated assurances that he would make every 
endeavour to fulfil her wishes in every respect ; and after sympathizing 
and condoling with her for some time they separated. 



VISION NINTH. 

Again, the Spirits my mind impress according to the usual sicay of 
their mystic powers, and thus another scene educe. 

High up among the Judean mountains, on one of the most eastern 
ranges, not far from the city of Jericho, situated midway between the 
mountain top and the ravine's deep abyss, there was a plateau con- 
taining a small fertile spot— being an oasis in the desert of the moun- 
tains. Several springs gushed from the mountains' sides, which spread- 
ing over the small plain and mingling with the debris, a scanty supply 
of mould was produced; from whence grass, shrubs, trees and moss 
sprang up spontaneously. This fertile spot was a minature forest of 
pine, cedar, tamarisk, oak and palm trees, interspersed with grassy plats 
and running streams. Near the centre of this small verdant locality was 
an habitation or grotto ; the cylindrical wall being constructed o\ rocky 
fragments, and the roof of rushes in the form of a cone: in the front 
of which, near to the entrance and under the shade oi' a ta m a ris k V 
was a long rude bench, which seemed to be used as a seat or loin 

This lonely smiling spot in the desert was suitable to the resident, 
who seemed to avoid the busy turmoil 01 society, and courted this 
lovely scene for uninterrupted meditation. This was one of the ret: 
of Jesus of Nazareth, when in the neighbourhood of the Holy City. 

The iiun had passed the meridian, diffusing with undiiiuni.heu splen- 



118 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

dour its life-inspiring rays upon the scene around, causing the air to be 
dry and sultry. At such a time, all animals withdraw to shade and 
repose to avoid exposure to the sun when in the zenith of its power. 

With his head iDillowed upon his mantle, under the shade of the 
tamarisk tree, Jesus reclined upon the bench in front of his grotto. 
From early watching and fatigue of deep reflection, his bodily senses 
became exhausted and slumber gradually stole upon him, until his 
senses were lost in oblivion, and he was unconscious to the scene around 
him. But from certain passing motions and alternate expressions of 
his features, it could be seen that the inward man or spirit was awake 
and active. Jesus was asleep and dreaming; and as the mysterious 
vision flitted before the mental eye, so strong were the sympathies of 
the soul with the senses of the body, that it would, unbidden, impress 
them upon the features of the corporeal man. Alternately his features 
expressed surprise, admiration, love, reverence, fear or horror ; which 
according to the Medium's perception, shall here be portrayed : — 

In the panorama of his mental sphere, Jesus saw himself wandering 
alone in the wilderness of the barren mountains, seeming to be in a 
reflective mood upon the approaching time, when he designed declaring 
his intentions and doctrines to the people. Some time he had wandered 
over plain, hill and gorge, without heeding whither he went ; at length 
looking around him, he perceived the scene to be unknown to him, 
and knew not the way to return. Some time he stood perplexed and 
undecided whether to proceed or endeavour to retrace his steps. All 
was barren, desolate and dreary around him ; no signs of life or in- 
dications to any route. Long ranges of barren hills and mountains 
stood before and behind him ; deep ravines and unfathomable abyss' 
impeded his progress, without a prospect of succor from any living 
being. He gave himself up for lost. For a few minutes he remained 
still with great uneasiness of mind, when at length he thought he saw 
something approaching him. Nearer and nearer it came ; at length, a 
venerable old man of a stern aspect and clothed in a loose dress, burst 
upon his view, and stood before him. 

"My friend, I am lost," said Jesus, addressing the old man in a 
courteous tone of voice, and with a salutation of the body. 

"So I perceive," replied the old man complacently. "As thou hast 
not wandered very far from thy abode, it is possible to regain it before 
the day expires ; but if thou shouldst go much farther, thou wilt be 
irretrievably lost. This scene is a type of thy mind. At present, thou I 
art in doubt how to proceed ; but if thou pursuest thy inclinations thou 
wilt be lost." 

44 How ! " exclaimed Jesus, " Dost thou pretend to know my mind?" 

" I do not pretend," replied the old man with a smile, " but I actually 
do know thy mind, and, as a friend who admires thy vtrtuous incli- 
nations, I come forward to give thee warning, so as to arrest thee from 
destruction : in the same manner, I am capable of directing thy safe 
return to thy abode." 

"Thou fillest me with amazement!" cried Jesus, looking upon the 
old man with intense interest. " Give me some proof that what thou 
fcayest is true, before I talk with thee any farther." 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 119 

"I can easily do that," replied the old man, as he gave a peculiar 
disagreeable leer at Jesus, who felt an indefinable shudder pass through 
him at the time. "It is thy resolve, before many hours shall have 
passed, to start upon the world with the laudable intent of reforming 
mankind. Is it not so ? " 

Jesus gave an involuntary start and retreated a pace from the old 
man, regarding him with fearful amazement. 

"Tell me," he cried in a hurried and excited manner, "tell me who 
thou art, for I believe thou art something more than mortal." 

"I am," replied the old man seriously; "yet all my sayings and 
doings are connected with mortals. I have lived from the first ; — I live 
with the present, and I shall live forever as long as man liveth ; for I 
am the Recording Genius of Humanity. I trace the progress and ab- 
berations of nations, and record them in a book which I call Experience, 
I note the gradual progress of mankind from barbarism to refinement, 
and sometimes from refinement to barbarism ; and I can assure thee, 
that when I reflect upon the various acts of man that I have recorded, 
many exceedingly wise axioms are brought to my view. Now, as I 
admire thy noble intentions of doing good to thy fellow men, I wish 
to give thee the benefit of my experience and reflections, which I will 
do in a few words. Forbear to put into execution thy designs, but 
return to thy simple and virtuous private life, and study to make thy- 
self happy." 

"I cannot conceive," replied Jesus rather indignantly, "that it is a 
man's duty to live for himself alone. A man is but a small pail of 
mankind, yet there is a mutual dependence and connexion upon each 
other, either for good or evil. As one drop of water in the ocean is 
connected and dependent upon the whole mass, so is the mass affected 
by the single drop, either for good or evil. How, then, if a man be 
honest, virtuous, intelligent and full of love, can he do no good for his 
fellow men, by teaching his principles and giving them his good ex- 
amples?" 

"All thy ideas are very good, according to their intrinsic worth," 
replied the old man. " They may do good between one individual and 
another, but when thou talkest of applying it to a nation of people, that 
is quite another thing. The great difficulty will be to execute them — 
which thou wilt never be able to do. There never was a nation of 
people governed by preaching to them honesty, virtue, intelligence and 
love. There is not one now that acknowledges these principles as the 
rule of their government ; and I may venture to say that it will be 
many, many centuries before there ever will be." 

"If such be the failings of our Rulers," remarked Jesus, "is it not 
possible to establish a virtuous power among the people by instructing 
them and setting examples?" 

"That would be still more difficult and impossible," returned the 
genius. "An individual, it is possible to reform and bring to a certain 
degree of refinement, but not so a people. In the first place: When 
thou goest to preach thy doctrines to the people, thou must be assured 
that their minds are prepared to receive them. They ought to have a 
sufficient mental capacity to comprehend any abstract or obscure point, 



120 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

thou mayest bring before them ; for unless they have such, thou mayest 
as well preach to a flock of goats or sheep. In the second place : Some 
portion of the people may be able to conceive thy doctrines in part, and 
misunderstand a part ; then there will be misunderstandings and mis- 
constructions — giving a general confusion of errors. Another portion 
of the people may understand thee well, but their habits, vices and petty 
interests will prevent them from following thy intructions ; and lastly 
another portion of the people may understand thee thoroughly, but 
their opposing interests will generate hate against thee. They accord- 
ingly will misrepresent and vilify thy doctrines and instructions, and 
then proceed to persecute thee, — resting not until they procure thy 
destruction. Such has been the fate of nearly all those who have en- 
deavoured to enlighten the people ; and such will ultimately be thine, 
if thou wilt persist in following their footsteps, in neglecting the warn- 
ing I give thee." 

"Great God!" exclaimed Jesus in a commiserative tone of voice. 
" If such be the fate of those who endeavour to improve mankind, how 
will the world ever be made virtuous and happy ? " 

" The Great God of Nature made man," replied the genius impres- 
sively. " If he should think that mankind needs improving, he, no 
doubt, will do it himself, or cause his work gradually to improve itself. 
It certainly looks presumptuous for a man to think himself capable of 
improving what God has made, before he understands his own nature 
or the nature and design of mankind whom he wishes to improve. 
Leave God's work to God, and let every man that thinks himself su- 
periox* to his fellow mortals, endeavour to improve himself. The Great 
God of Nature, works by efficient means to accomplish his own ends ; 
and no doubt mankind, after passing through a succession of self-ex- 
alted grades, will ultimately arrive at that state to which he is destined." 

" Then thou thinkest that an appeal to man's sense of reason and 
virtue will be of no effect, in producing an amelioration in his con- 
dition?" observed Jesus inquiringly. 

"Certainly not," replied the genius; "I know it would be quite 
futile. There is no such thing as a general perception of reason and 
virtue among a people : every one has his own perception of things that 
he thinks will suit himself, which he calls his reason and virtue, and 
which will be quite different to those of his next door neighbour. All 
others will be quite different, one to the other ; so that there will be as 
many perceptions of reason and virtue as there are people. Now, as 
this is true, would it not be vain and futile for a man to preach virtue, 
religion, morals and metaphysics to a nation of people, thinking to 
arrive at a general result, when left to their free minds to decide ? It 
would be worse than futile — it would be absurd. The only possible 
way for a man to enlighten and benefit a nation, is for him, first, to 
seize and concentrate all the power of that nation within himself, and 
then, if he should be a wise and virtuous man, he can coerce his people 
to do what is good for themselves,— but not otherwise. 

" Did Moses liberate his brethren from Egyptian bondage by preach- 
ing virtue and reason to the Egyptians ? No ; it was by force of num- 
bers and arms. Did he establish his ideal God— the Great Jehovah— 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 121 

among his people, by preaching refined and abstruse doctrines among 
them? No ; it was by the terror he created among them with his arti- 
ficial thunder and lightning, the blowing of a brass trumpet, and the 
slaughter of a few thousand of his brethren. As long as Moses and 
his successors possessed this power over the Children of Israel, so long 
were they a people, corresponding in character to the stern, cruel, fa- 
natical and indomitable spirits that ruled over them. Thus it has been 
with all nations — thus it is with the present, — and possibly will be the 
same of the future. The mass of mankind can not be governed by 
appealing to their moral sentiments ; they have no capacity to perceive 
the fitness of things for the general good ; they have no gratitude for 
benefits conferred upon them ; nor a just sense of manly dignity to lift 
them above petty interests, vices, frauds, or vindictive passions. There 
is but one thing they all acknowledge and bow to — that is Force." 

" Thy views, as thou hast stated them," observed Jesus, " may be the 
legitimate deductions of man's past history, and the present may seem 
to confirm them ; but tell me — Is man to continue always in this state 
of vice, ignorance and misery ? Is there to be no starting point from 
whence a new era is to commence, in which he shall make efforts to 
advance and improve his condition ? I am of the opinion that that era 
has now dawned — that opportunites are now great, when a leader en- 
dowed with fortitude and good principles, will not labor in vain in 
revolutionizing and reforming his fellow men. I cannot conceive that 
it will be displeasing to the Ruler of the Universe, that one man shall 
endeavour to improve his fellow men, by giving them enlightenment 
concerning the true principles of a happy and just life. With this view, 
I consider it my duty to run all ventures in undertaking the task ; and 
with God's permission, I will do it." 

"Mark my words," said the genius in a stern tone of voice, though 
the glance he threw upon Jesus was one of commiseration; "From 
the admiration I conceived for thee and thy virtuous intentions, I 
wished to save thee from the fatal consequences of an error. I gave 
thee warning to desist ; I gave thee my reasons, and cited instances 
from the past history of man to confirm them; but thou dost still 
persist in thy infatuation to rush to thy own destruction. One other 
trial will I make, and then I will leave thee to do thy will. Suppose 
thou enterest upon the course thou designest and meet with success 
at first — which is probable, I will now portray a picture of the future, 
which shall be as true to probability as the calculation that to-morrow's 
sun shall rise. 

"Thou shalt teach the people thy principles, consisting of the purest 
morality, relating to their nature and duties in life. Thou shalt give 
them the most exalted conceptions of a Deity, and enlighten them con- 
cerning the laws of the Universe; teach them their duty one to another; 
obedience to their rulers, and inculcate within thorn a love for all man- 
kind. By this course thou wilt make many converts: some who will 
understand thee, and some who w r ill follow from example. Thou will 
become popular among the people, having power over their minds. 
Thus far thou wilt be successful, but mark well what will follow : 

"The truth of thy doctrines and thy popularity among the people, will 



122 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

make thee enemies. Some, from envy of thy power over the minds of 
the people ; some will consider their interests injured by thy doctrines 
and works ; others, who are dependent upon the institutions of the day, 
will be afraid that thy enlightenment of the people will ruin them. 
Then, they will all combine to persecute and destroy thee. Misrepre- 
sentations and vile accusations they will disseminate concerning thee, 
charges will be preferred against thee, and then thy doom will be con- 
demnation, ruin, and perhaps destruction, by thy enemies." 

Jesus shuddered. 

" That, continued the Genius, "will be the evil result to thyself, only. 
Now see what will follow to mankind at large : 

M Thy death will give v a new impulse to the dissemination of thy 
doctrines, or those which will be passed under thy name. Thou wilt be 
considered a martyr, which will make new converts daily. Ambitious 
and interested men will arise among them, as leaders and expounders 
of thy doctrines and intentions ; some additions and some omissions 
will be made to them — then some misconceptions and misconstructions 
will take place ; then a few fables and a great many lies will be added, 
so that, at length, there will be scarcely a precept, a principle, or a fact, 
of thy original doctrines that will be taught by thy successors: yet 
every teacher will utter his fables, his lies, his vulgarisms and mis- 
conceptions in thy name, and call it gospel. Every teacher will gather 
what few facts he can concerning thy history, and add to them what 
fiction and lies he thinks proper ; so that, in course of time, there will 
be a thousand histories of thee, consisting of the most absurd and 
monstrous fictions, — every one differing from the other, and scarcely 
an item of truth in the whole. As time passes on, new converts will 
be made, who will disperse themselves far and wide into many coun- 
tries. New forms and additional doctrines will be added to thine, until 
thy original principles will assume a dark, gloomy and absurd system 
of superstition, which will be called a religion. There will be a wild 
fascination in it, which will create a fanatical zeal in its followers. In 
the commencement, the converts of this new religion, as they spread 
themselves over the world, will encounter great persecution from the 
old established authorities of previous systems of superstition. Tens 
and hundreds of thousands will undergo martyrdom in thy name, — 
thinking themselves happy to die possessing thy doctrines, when at the 
same time, they will be entirely ignorant of thy principles. 

" The time at length will come, when thy followers will predominate 
in the land ; then a grand system of Priesthood will be established 
with a supreme head, who, possessed of political power, will arrogate 
to himself a spiritual one. He will assume to hold the keys of heaven 
- — pointing out the way for others to go, forgiving sins, and damning 
all who do not follow his suggestions and commands. The rage of 
persecution will now be turned, — thy followers will be the persecutors. 
In thy name will they condemn the innocent, the just, the philosopher, 
and exterminate them with the sword, the rack, the gibbet and fire ; — 
calling upon them to repent and confess that thou art the Holy One, 
for whom all these murderous acts are consummated. The time will 
Some, when schisms will arise on doctrinal points, when one part of a 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 123 

people will believe this, and another that, — the people of one nation 
will prefer this doctrine, and the people of another nation will believe 
that doctrine ; then hatred will arise among nations. They will go 
forth to battle, mutilate and destroy each other in thy name. Each 
party will put up prayers to thee in the Supernal World — calling upon 
thee for thy assistance to help them slaughter each other ; and when 
one party shall gain an advantage in battle, they will sing praises in 
honor of thee for the help thou hast given them in destroying their 
fellow men. Thus the world will be deluged with biood: mankind 
instead of progressing, will retrograde in their nature and become 
demons ; the earth will become a slaughter-house, all to the glory of 
thy name; the minds of men will be filled with gloom, fanatical zeal, 
and a base, absurd superstition, — they will live in dread and die in 
terror. Arts, sciences, literature, and all refinements will be banished 
from society ; for nothing good will be enabled to exist where man is 
so cursed by the horrid superstition, which will be built upon thy 
original virtuous principles. Like a huge demon, it will ride upon the 
neck of society, making all mankind wretched and the whole earth a 
hell. Thus, however noble and benevolent may be thy intent, thy 
doctrines and name will prove for many centuries, the Curse of Man- 
kind!" * ■ r *- * ■: * * * * 

With a piercing shriek, Jesus awoke from his unquiet sleep. Terror 
was depicted, upon his countenance, and he trembled in every nerve. 
The external scene of his abode and locality impressed his senses, when 
he found that all he thought he had just experienced was no more than 
a dream. Still the vision was fixed in his mind, and the voice of the 
Genius still rung in his ear — ' The Curse of Mankind;' he shuddered at 
the awful thought. 

Jus.t at this point of time, John of Galilee — the young companion of 
Jesus— and Judas in company, were approaching the grotto; when 
perceiving Jesus, they saw that he was in a troubled state. They im- 
mediately rushed towards him and seized him by the hands. 

"Dearest brother!" cried John, with much alarm expressed in his 
fair, youthful countenance, " what aileth thee? " 

"Dear master," said Judas, as he endeavoured to assume an ex- 
pression of fearful solicitude, "Tell thy devoted servant and follower, 
what it is that disturbs thee." 

Jesus leaned upon John's shoulder, and with his right hand covering 
his eyes, he remained silent for a time, endeavouring to recover his 
thoughts and composure : but at length he replied : 

" My friends, pardon me for having given you any alarm. I have 
been sleeping, and have had a dream so replete with terrible images 
that it shook me to the soul ; and since I have awakened, I find my 
nerves sympathetically affected by the same: but all will be well in a 
little time." 

" Impart to us, dear brother, the nature of this dream," said John in 
a soft, child-like voice. "Perhaps we can give some interpretation of 
it, or, at least, give coniibrt by our counsel." 

"Let us be seated then, and 1 will do so," returned Jesus, as he bent 
his steps to the grotto, followed by his attendants. 



124 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

The interior of the grotto was a plain circular chamber, without any 
furniture excepting a part being elevated around the wall, which was 
covered with rushes and coarse cloth, serving as seats and couches. 

The parties entering, seated themselves and reclined at their ease. 
Jesus, after receiving a refreshment of wine and water at the hands of 
Judas, commenced to relate his dream ; and as he proceeded in the 
narrative, the large blue eyes of John protruded far from his head, 
expressive of wonderment, — while Judas gave many demonstrations 
of being equally affected. 

John of Galilee was a great believer in Spirits visiting mankind, to 
guard or interrupt them in their doings and intentions. Some of these 
Spirits he believed to be of a friendly, and some of a malignant nature ; 
so that, whenever anything of an extraordinary nature occurred to men, 
John endeavoured to account for it by his philosophy of Spirits. Thus, 
when Jesus had related his dream, John observed : 

" My dear brother, there is no doubt that this dreadful dream has 
been produced by one of the evil Spirits — perhaps the great Arch Fiend 
himself, — for he is capable of assuming any character, and speaking in 
any strain. He can pretend to be as pious as the High. Priest, or he can 
speak with the wisdom of a philosopher. There is no doubt it was he 
who appeared to thee. He has been enabled to see the good thou art 
about to do for mankind, and as he wishes men to continue in their old 
ways of wickedness, he wishes to prevent thee in thy design of reform- 
ing them, by impressing thee with the idea that evil will come of thy 
labors, instead of good." 

John then appealed to Judas, to know if he did not think that to be 
the true solution of the matter ; when the latter, after a few moments 
reflection, in which he found it would suit his purposes, gave John to 
understand that he was of the same opinion. 

" It may be as thou say est, John," replied Jesus, " for I am not much 
acquainted with the nature of evil Spirits ; but I rather think that my 
dream proceeded from some doubts and conflicting ideas I had previous 
to my going to sleep." 

Some time afterwards, this dream was given to the people by Judas 
ill a modified state. He represented the Arch Fiend tempting Jesus 
in the wilderness, offering him all the world to forego his intentions. 

There was some further conversation upon this subject, which at 
length was lost sight of by Jesus observing : 

" My friends, it is my wish that we depart from this locality to-mor- 
row. We will commence our travels, and wend our way to my native 
village in Galilee — to Nazareth, where I will commence the great task 
I have imposed upon myself. May God give me strength to proceed, 
and success in my undertakings. John, thou must attend to my person 
and be the first officer between me and others. Judas shall carry the 
bag, and be our provider in all things necessary to us on our journey 
and when we sojourn. After a while, I will take to me more followers, 
who shall aid me in my endeavours ; for we know that the greater 
the number of workmen in the vineyard, the greater will be the pro- 
duce. Then let every thing be prepared, and by sunrise to-morrow 
we will bid adieu to this, our abode.". 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 125 



VISION TENTH. 

Again the panorama of the Medium's mind is changed, as moved by the 
mystic power of the Spirits ; presenting to the view of the mental eye, 
in colors vivid and distinct, an up-land scene, far above the ocean on 
the west, and the river Jordan on the east, in the land of Galilee, 

Fifteen hills with verdant slopes, surround a fertile spot, wherein a 
village stands, which is bordered with stately palm trees and rich 
gardens, hedged around with prickley pear, that radiate from the village 
to the base of the hills. Mount Tabor, with its rounded dome, is seen 
in the north-east ; Mount Hermon's white top in the distant north; in 
the west is Mount Carmel, and on the south stretches the broad plains 
of Esdrelon. 

The village inhabitants are not numerous, consisting principally of 
agriculturists, with a few tradesfolk. The habitations are rectangular, 
built of stone and timber, with flat roofe, and mostly painted white. 
There is one building larger than the rest, enclosed by a wooden fence, 
between which and the building, is a smooth, green sward, bordered 
with flowers. This edifice is the village school and synagogue. At the 
north-west of the village is a large spring, which is arched over with 
stone, and not far from the south-west end of the village there is a 
sudden descent into a deep ravine. The ground at this spot consists of 
massive rocks, the brow of which overhangs the deep abyss below ; 
about a hundred feet to the eastward of this, there is a gradual descent, 
where a road leads on to the plains of Jordan and the lake of Genesareth. 
This village was Nazareth, recorded as the place where Jesus had been 
bred from his infancy, and where he had received the rudiments of his 
education. 

The glorious orb of day had nearly run its daily course ; its golden 
disk and dazzling sheen were fast sinking from view, behind Mount 
Carmel, when three weary travellers arrived at the spring of Nazareth, 
with the intent of quenching their excessive thirst. There were several 
females around the well with their vessels, to obtain the cool water for 
their families' evening consumption. Some of them were young 
maidens, and some matrons of elder years ; ail of whom, as soon as they 
saw the travellers and understood their wants, presented their vessels 
to them to drink from. One of the young damsels, a finely formed 
brunette, with dark hair hanging in wild profusion around her naked 
neck and shoulders, wearing a single garment of blue stuff, passing 
over her left shoulder, girded about the waist and hanging in folds to 
her ankles, approached the tallest of the travellers and presented her 
vessel for him to drink. The traveller, with a graceful bow to the lovely 
maiden, availed himself of her offer ; when, having satisfied his thirst, 
he returned the vessel to her hands and addressed her in tones of great 
sweetness : 

"Sweet maiden," he said, "I thank thee for thy welcome favour; tell 
me of what family thou art, in the village." 



126 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"Sir," replied the maiden, timidly, "there is no family in the village 
I can claim as mine — for I am a poor orphan." 

" With whom dost thou live, then?" inquired the traveller. 

"I am living, Sir, with the matron Mary; the widow of Joseph, the 
Carpenter," replied the maiden. 

"Ah! she lives, then?" exclaimed the traveller; and then he added: 
"She is well, I hope?" 

"Alas! Sir," responded the maiden, in a solemn tone, "my kind 
mistress is far from being well ; she has been sick for several days, and 
now it is thought she is on the couch of death." 

The traveller gave a sudden start, and his expression bespoke great 
distress of feeling. After a few moments,' in which he endeavoured to 
recover from his painful emotions, he said, hurriedly : 

"Hasten thee to thy home, and I will follow thee there." 

The maiden instantly placed the water-vessel upon her head, and 
with a quick yet graceful step, took her way to the village. 

Then Jesus, for it was he, turning to his two companions, John and 
Judas, said to them : 

"My friends, I must leave you for a while; go to the village inn and 
abide there till I come." 

Then wrapping his mantle carefully around him, that his person 
could not be distinguished, he, with hasty steps, followed the damsel 
into the village, and into the house whither she went. 

Within a chamber of one of the dwellings in Nazareth, several of the 
neighbours were assembled around the couch of a dying woman. They 
were mostly females, though several of the other sex attended 
occasionally. One of the males present was the Rabbi of the village, 
who was distinguished from the others by the long, black robe he wore, 
and the white tire or twisted cloth around his head. His long, white 
beard and moustache, and the solemn expression of his mien, were in 
character with his office, whether in conformity with his own or not. 
These good people had assembled to attend to the invalid's last wishes, 
and to administer all the comfort and consolation it was in their power 
to do, to smooth the path by which her spirit was to depart from this 
world to the dark shades of death. 

The sick woman seemed to be a person in the first step of declining 
age ; she lay upon her couch with the pallor of death on her countenance, 
breathing with short, quick inspiration, as though the machinery of 
life was making strenuous efforts to retain the vital spark ; her bust was 
elevated by means of several pillows, with her head thrown back and 
her eyes closed, though awake and sensible to all around her. 

The worthy Rabbi had just terminated a pious exhortation, in which 
he endeavoured to impress the idea that she would soon find relief and 
recompence from all earthly t roubles, in the bosom of Father Abraham. 
Then there was a silence of some minutes, occasionally broken by the 
sobs and wailings of the \isitors. At length the eyes of the sick woman 
opened, when turning her feeble gaze upon one of the women present, 
she told her to get something from under the pillows of the couch and 
jrive it to the Rabbi. The woman did as she was requested, when she 
produced to view a small casket of ornamented leather, which she put 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 127 

into the hands of the Rabbi. Then the sick woman, turning her eyes 
towards the latter, with great effort, managed to address him in a feeble 
voice : 

" Rabbi, one reason I have for thy presence here, is to commit to thy 
charge and safe-keeping some documents and a relic, which are to be 
placed in the hands of my long lost boy, Jos£, should he ever return to 
his native village. Tell him, if thou seest him, to pardon me for not 
making the communication before. Tell him that I have done all for 
his happiness, as I thought, and that I could not die in peace unless I 
should declare all the truth to him at last. Rabbi, wilt thou promise 
to fulfil my request? " 

"Dear sister," responded the Rabbi, "be thou comforted on that 
point. I solemnly promise to do all thou wishest me, if he ever returns 
to this village during my life." 

"I am grateful, Rabbi," answered the dying woman; "Now I am 
more at ease : but I could wish, had it pleased God, to see my dear Jose" 
once more before I die." 

Daring the delivery of the last few words, the door opened, when 
Jesus entered the chamber and approached the couch of the dying 
woman ; he then fell upon his knees at her side and cried affectionately : 

" Mother ! dearest mother ! it is I." 

Then seizing her hand he pressed it to his lips, as the tears trickled 
fast down his cheeks. The dying woman, on hearing his voice, sud- 
denly sprang up to a sitting posture, and gazed upon his countenance 
with wonder and great joy. Then raising her eyes to heaven, she 
uttered one loud, shrill shriek of exultation and fell back upon the 
pillows. Her last effort expended the remaining sum of her strength ; 
her vital spark then fled, and the lease of her earthly tenement was 
terminated,— her features relaxed, for she was a corpse; and Jesus 
accompanied the departed spirit to the Throne of God with his prayers. 

An hour at least had passed, when Jesus arose from his prostrate 
position. He looked around him and found that all the visitors had 
left excepting the Rabbi, who, in a tone of solemn sympathy, observed, 
as he held forth the casket : 

" It would be presumptuous in me to check or disapprove of the 
natural outpourings of sympathy and pure love, which thy tears de- 
monstrate — tears of regret at the departure of a near and dear relative, 
suggesting in their course a multitude of fond remembrances that 
existed between you in by-gone days. Tears of affection are a just 
tribute to the worthy dead — a divine soother of our inward sorrow, 
rendering us humble and calm, enabling us to view justly the deer* 
of God, and appreciate the precarious tenure of our mortal state. My 
friend, just before thy appearance, thy mother confided to me a trust, 
which I solemnly promised to guard and mini. She gave me this 
casket to keep in safety, with strict injunctions that it' ever thou 
shouldst return to thy native village, I should place it in thy hands. 
It contains something of importance, of which she has kept thee in 
ignorance. She begs of thee to forgive her for what she has done, as 
she said she did what she thought best for thy happiness. 1 now ac- 
quit myself of my trust " 



128 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Then the Rabbi placed the casket in the hands of Jesus, who received 
it, wondering what could be the nature of its contents ; but suppressing 
his curiosity for the time, he expressed his thanks to the Rabbi for his 
services, and appointed him superintendent over his mother's funeral, 
and took leave of him for that time. Jesus then quietly wended his 
way through the dark village to the public inn where he found his 
companions, with whom he passed an hour, relating what had occurred 
since he had left them. After a while, he sought an opportunity to be 
alone, when he eagerly opened the casket and saw what it contained. 

•*- * * * * * -:•:- -& 9 

Several days had passed, in which Jesus buried his mother and 
mourned her loss in sincere sorrow, according to the usual rites and 
customs. It was now the Sabbath day : the synagogue was open, and 
the villagers congregated there to pray and hear the morning services 
read. Thither Jesus and his companions went. 

Again, the scene before the Medium's mental eye undergoes a change. 
The scene presented the interior of the synagogue, — a rectangular 
building of very simple structure, and void of ornament. Light was 
admitted from the upper part of the walls, through window casements. 
From the walls, a few feet inward, a passage was formed along the four 
sides ; and in the middle of the building a square space was divided off 
with a balustrade on the four sides : in the centre of which was a ros- 
trum or speaking desk, elevated two or three feet from the floor. Be- 
tween the balustrade and the exterior passages the space was filled up 
with plain wooden benches, on which the people could sit, recline, or 
kneel at their choice. 

Nearly all the villagers were present, and many persons from the 
country around ; for a curiosity had been aroused in consideration of 
the strangers presence among them, — especially of Jesus, who claimed 
Nazareth as his native place, and was known to the greater part of the 
people under the name of Jose*. It was also whispered among the 
people that this Jose* was going to address them at the conclusion of the 
morning service. 

At the usual tinie the services commenced, by a young student en- 
tering the enclosure habited in a long white robe, who held in his hand 
a scroll or book called the Esdreth, from which he read a number of 
prayers in a shrill, recitative tone, accompanied by the people in certain 
parts, repeating the same. This lasted a few minutes, then an aged 
Rabbi entered the enclosure and mounted the rostrum, attended by 
the young reciter of prayers. The latter presented the Rabbi a book 
called the Shema, from which he read in a distinct, impressive voice 
several chapters or parts. He then read from another book called the 
Book of Law, several parts, and concluded from another of the Pro- 
phets. He then announced to the people that the services being over, 
any one was at liberty to speak or ask a question. Then Jesus arose 
from among the people, and with a steady, unassuming gait entered 
the enclosure and mounted the rostrum, which the Rabbi had just left. 
The Rabbi inquired of Jesus if he wanted a book, when the latter re- 
plied that the Book of the Prophets would do. 

There was now a general stir and excitement among the people,— all 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 129 

eyes being placed upon the handsome and dignified person before them. 
For the first few moments a general buzzing, whispering noise was 
heard ; but as soon as Jesus spread open the book and intimated that 
he was ready to address them, all present became as silent as death. 
Jesus uplifted his eyes for a few moments as though invoking the Di- 
vine Power, then glancing around at the people he pointed to a passage 
in the book, and read* it in a mild, distinct and impressive voice : 

" * The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has enabled me to 
preach the true light to the poor, — to bring good tidings unto the meek, 
— to build up the broken hearted, — to proclaim liberty to captives, and 
break their prison bonds.' Thus spoke the Prophet Isaiah. 

" Brethren ! I do not presume to say, or hazzard a conjecture as to 
what were the designs or impressions of the Prophet, when he made 
this declaration. Some may think that he alluded to himself, and 
others may think that he alluded to another that is to come. Which 
ever way it may be, I shall not heed it in that respect ; but I will en- 
deavour to show you what is the meaning of it, and whether it be 
applicable to the present time and circumstances. In contemplating 
this declaration by my own inward light, I *am enabled to see the design 
of the Prophet, the meaning of the declaration and its applicability to 
the present time, — all of which I will explain* and make clear to your 
comprehension. 

" In the first place. This declaration must not be understood in the 
present sense and literal meaning, word for word ; I shall therefore 
^divide it into several subjects, and explain them separately: by so 
doing, I shall be fulfilling, in a measure, the design of the Prophet. 
* The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.' What is meant by the Spirit of 
the Lord ? When I say Lorgl, I mean the Great God of the Universe — 
the Great Father of us all. and not the absurd, irrational, vidictive 
Being our forefathers gave us to worship, under the name of Jehovah. 
The Spirit of the Great God of the Universe ! what is it? As the Great 
God exists within the centre of the vast universe, contemplating his 
mighty works, he issues a divine essence from his own great heart and 
mind, which he diffuses through all the boundless universe to all ma- 
'ferial nature — whether it be a single atom or congregated masses of 
worlds, — imparting to all his divine will and power. To the primitive 
masses he imparts his power of motion and design, which ultimate 
in the formation of worlds, of minerals and vegetables. Then to these 
he imparts physical sympathies and appetent carnal powers, which 
ultimate in animals of low degree. Then to them, by gradual degrees, 
his divine essence imparts the powers of conception, the formation of 
mind, of reason in various degrees, until man is at length established. 
Thus, man is so constituted, that he balances between his corporeal 
cravings and the impulses of divine intelligence. If his corporeal 
nature predominates, he is a brute; and if the divine impulses of in- 
telligence predominates, he is a man allied to God who made him, in 
I his divine spiritual nature. If then, a man shall live a pure and ra- 
tional life in this world, — giving so much attention to his corporeal 
nature as his wants require, and devoting the remainder of his energies 
to the improvement of his spiritual Dart, then the latter will become 



130 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

expanded, ennobled and refined,— always struggling for, and aspiring 
to the grand, sublime and holy. 

"A man thus living becomes in body pure, chaste and healthy, under 
due submission to his spiritual part. His intelligence becomes greater 
than that of other men ; and that spark of divinity of which his soul 
consists, becomes sublimated, — having the power of diffusing itself like 
a ray of light, far into the universe, when at times it comes in contact 
with the divine essence as coming from the Divine Father. The spirit- 
ual part of man thus situated, is then in communion with the Spirit of 
God — and thus is explained that part of the Prophet's declaration: 
4 The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.' Such a state of man's spiritual 
exaltation is true inspiration. 

44 * The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has enabled me to 
preach the true light to the poor.' Now brethren, let us examine what 
is the true light, and who are the poor. By the true light, we may un- 
derstand, a knowledge of God's works as pertaining to man. This 
knowledge will embrace many subjects — the least of which is of great 
importance. We will say for instance, that it is necessary man shall 
know the design of God in creating him, — then he should know how 
to live a pure and righteous life, — how to improve and perpetuate that 
life bodily and spiritually, — what is dissolution or death, — if there be a 
future existence after death for man, and what are the necessary pre- 
parations to insure this after life. These items of knowledge constitute 
the True Light as pertaining to man, and the source by which they are 
revealed is True Inspiration. But where, brethren, is this True Light 
to be found ? Where is the true source that gives it — the truly inspired 
man? Shall we find it in those books called Sacred f Shall we find 
the truly inspired man among those men the books call the Prophets ? 
No, my brethren ; those books contain not the True Light. They do 
not contain the least true idea of the nature of God, his designs in cre- 
ating man, or man's true nature; neither do they contain a code of 
wise laws teaching how to live purely, justly and righteously, or 
give a rational glimpse of the life hereafter. 

44 Shall we look to those Prophets for a source of true inspiration? 
for lives of purity, for words of wisdom and knowledge beyond the 
common sphere of life ? No, no, my brethren : the Prophets were very 
common, ignorant men, — ignorant of those things of which they pre- 
tended to prophesy. Examine the books, then, you will find that the 
God by whom these Prophets were inspired, as represented by them, is 
no more than the portraiture of a tyrannical King, absurd, fickle, cruel j 
and ignorant. If such be the God Jehovah as they have portrayed 
him, what are they themselves ? The greater part of them were cun- 
ning imposters ; some, fanatical zealots ; some, perfect madmen, — and 
all gloomy minded and desperately ignorant, who were continually 
denouncing woes to man. I do not wish you to understand, ray 
brethren, that there never were any truly inspired men, but I wish to 
convey the idea that they are not to be found among those mentioned 
in the Sacred Books. 

44 Whatever claims other men may have to true inspiration, I know 
not, I will not dispute the assumption that there are such ; for, when I 



t 

JESUS OF NAZARETH. 131 

examine my own nature, I am enabled to say that it is possible. Yes, 
my brethren, it is possible. You behold in me, one, who under the 
supernal favours of the Divine Father, has undergone more than a com- 
mon mortars experience on these matters; many years have I devoted 
to the arduous study of our common nature, of God and the Universe ; 
many times have I been exalted above my common nature ; many 
things have I seen that other men see not ; many things have I learned 
that other men can not learn, and many things I do that other men can 
not do. Yet, I am not so conceited or crazy, as to consider myself more 
t han m ortal. But, notwithstanding, I can place my hand upon my 
heart and solemnly affirm, in the words of Isaiah, that 

" 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath enabled me to 
preach the true light to the poor.' " 

"But, now my brethren, what are we to understand by the poor? 
Are we to understand those who have not worldly wealth, consisting 
of rich garments, fine houses, lands and shekels of gold and silver? 
No ! such is not the meaning. It has reference to the spirit. A man 
may have all the riches of a Solomon, and still be poor in spirit. A poor 
man in this sense, is one who does not know that he possesses a spark 
of the Divine nature within him ; he is entirely ignorant of his nature, 
of God and the Universe ; he knows not the design of his existence, or 
how to live purely and justly; nor can he perceive or appreciate the 
great changes that take place through death, to a more exalted life. All 
his ideas and aspirations are limited to the earth. Like one of the lower 
order of brutes, he gropes his way through life with his head down, 
seeking for something to satisfy his animal nature ; he seeks for nothing 
to change the dull monotony of his life, but such things as engender 
petty strifes, envy, and low ambition. Such a man, my brethren, is 
poor, indeed; for that Divine jewel that God gave him, is buried and 
lost to him in the depth of his ignorance— being covered with the 
rubbish of this world. Such is the poor man, whether he be a beggar or 
a king. O ! my brethren, if there are any among you who feel thus 
poor, and wish to forsake so wretched a condition, let me, humble as I 
am, enlighten your understanding as to what are the true riches of life. 
Let me aid you to disinter that Divine spark of immortal life — the 
Divine Soul that God gave to you — that lives, though buried and lost 
"Within you. That precious immortal thing, which disenthralled and 
brought to your view, will make the sparkling diamond seem dull in 
comparison, by its surpassing lustre. Its divine light will guide you 
through all the dark paths of this world of evil deeds and tribulation, 
revealing all the true riches of this life, worthy of pursuit and possession, 
Then, my dear brethren, with the assistance I shall give you by my future 
discourses, you will know what is true life; you will become rich in 
health and purity of body and innocent enjoyments. Your minds will 
become rich in intelligence, of great ennobling ideas, comprehensive of 
your own nature, and of the True God. Your nerves will trill in onix u 
with the harmonious symphony of all the magnificent phenomena of 
the Universe. You will be rich in hope, which will triumph over the 
dark shades of death, and rich in anticipation of that happy stale which 
all, who are just in heart and exalted in mind, will enjoy in fun 



I 

132 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"Such, my brethren, is the meaning of the True Light that I shall 
preach to the poor, and the good tidings I shall bring to the meek. 
Now let us examine the other part of the prophet's declaration: 

" 'To bind up the broken-hearted and proclaim liberty to the captives." ' 

"Who are the broken-hearted and the captives, but those who suffer 
daily and hourly in this wretched state of society, by the tyrants and 
imposters who abuse and shackle their understandings? There are 
many men who can see their mental and spiritual degradation, who 
would willingly strive to shake off the shackles that bind them, but 
they dare not. Their minds are so enthralled by gloomy superstition 
and stern; cruel customs, that they know not how to proceed to re-gain 
their freedom ; yet they sigh for a change of condition ; their wishes and 
hopes flee before them, and dark despair fills up the void. These are 
the captives and broken-hearted, to whom I proclaim that freedom is 
nigh, and an ointment prepared for their wounds. 

"Our ancestors, were in body, slaves to the Egyptians, till Moses arose 
among them, when he changed that species of bondage for one of another 
kind. Ever since then, our people have been held in mental slavery, 
under the dominion of a vile, selfish Priesthood. Yes, brethren, your 
minds are locked up within the bounds of a base, destructive supersti- 
tion. You are debarred by this Priesthood from receiving the True 
Light ; your minds are darkened by the grossest ignorance, which pre- 
vents you from perceiving your true nature, as designed by the True 
God of the Universe. But the time shall come, brethren, when all these 
mental bonds shall be rent asunder ; then you will be enabled to come 
forth to the true light of day. You will cast your eyes around and see 
the disseminated rays of God-like intelligence, which will enable you to 
see yourselves and all other things ; then you will be enabled to lift up 
your heads with the true dignity of manhood. You will then learn the 
fact, that the Creator of Man is not Jehovah, the God of the Jews, but 
the True God of the Universe. Yes ! my brethren, you will see and feel 
the True God-head, in all the magnificent phenomena of nature; you 
will learn that he is the Father of us all ; that Universal Nature is our 
Mother, and that we are their children, and as we progress in life, by 
living in purity and spiritual exaltation, we may ultimately lay claim 
to be the true Sons of God." 

Any further discourse by Jesus was now prevented, by a great 
clamour arising among the congregation. 

In the commencement of his address, the people seemed excited with 
a lively curiosity, and as he proceeded to bring to their views the many 
new ideas and important truths, which he delivered with impressive 
enunciation, they became greatly interested; many expressing their 
convictions of the truth, by sudden involuntary exclamations. But 
towards the latter part, when he bore severely upon the vileness of the 
Priesthood, the grossness of their superstition, and mistaken views of 
the True God, then their old prejudices were awakened and a reaction 
took place. A visible emotion of displeasure was manifested, by 
blowing, hissing and spitting; while many cried aloud, "blasphemy! 
blasphemy !" At length, when Jesus had delivered the last sentence, the 
Jiabbi of the Synagogue, with distorted features and eves flashing with 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 133 

indignation, sprang upon a bench, shouting "blasphemy ! blasphemy ! " 
Then he seized his long, black robe with the desperation of a madman, 
and renc it from top to bottom, and afterwards, seizing his long, white 
beard with both his hands, he tore a portion of it out, which he scattered 
among the people, calling aloud upon them to avenge the God of Moses. 

The whole congregation were now in the greatest commotion and 
confusion, being separated in many groups, in angry altercation and 
violent gesticulations. Jesus, perceiving that he could no longer be 
heard, made no farther attempt to continue his discourse; he raised 
himself erect as he stood in the rostrum, and waving his hand around, 
he said, in a loud, commanding voice : 

" Peace ! Brethren, peace ! " 

Whether the people were struck with awe by the commanding tone 
and aspect of Jesus, or whether their commotion settled down by a 
newly awakened curiosity, they, however, became immediately quiet 
and calm — but their eyes were intently fixed upon Jesus, as he 
descended from the rostrum and quietly approached the Rabbi, who 
was still standing upon the bench, violently voiciferating and gesticu- 
lating, hurling charges and imprecations against Jesus ; as the latter 
approached and confronted him, and in a loud, imperative voice and 
commanding mien, he said to him : 

" What wouldst thou ? " 

"I would expose and denounce thee as an imposter, a liar, and 
blasphemer," replied the Rabbi with increased rage. 

"Wherein have I merited these angry expressions of thine?" de- 
manded Jesus, cooly. 

"Thou hast blasphemed," answered the Rabbi, "in denying our 
Great God Jehovah, — denouncing all our Prophets as imposters, and 
spoken vilely of our Holy Priesthood. And forsooth! although thou 
art known to all our people as the son of Joseph, the carpenter, yet 
thou hast the audacity to represent thyself as the Son of God." 

" Not as the son of Jehovah, whom in thy ignorance thou call est God," 
rejoined Jesus, " but the living, True God of the Universe, I claim as 
my father. Dost thou dispute my word ? " 

" I do," answered the Rabbi, with terror in his eyes — " and denounce 
It as a blasphemous lie." 

" Then I will make thee, from thine own mouth, confirm the words 
that I have spoken," returned Jesus sternly ; "I call all the brethren 
present, to bear witness." 

Then Jesus caught the glance of the Rabbi's eyes, and from a glance 
of his own, he beamed forth an unseen subtle power: like a serpent 
charming a bird, his figure was erect and bold, and eyes immovable. 
At the same time, he stretched forth his hands, holding them lor a i'r\v 
moments on a plane with the Rabbi's head, and then drew them gently 
downward. The invisible power was all subduing. The Rabbi started 
as though he had received a sudden shock; his countenance expn 
great terror, but it soon subsided; his arms fell powerless by his sides ; 
his eyes closed; his features became composed, and he seemed like one 
standing in a sleep. Jesus relaxed the severity of his countenance a3 
he moved towards the rostrum, at the same time, the Rabbi descended 



134 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

from the bench and followed him. With qniet and simultaneous stepa 
they both entered within the enclosure, when Jesus pointing to the 
rostrum, the Rabbi mounted the steps and stood before the people, 
unconscious of all around him. 

While these proceedings were going on between Jesus and the Babbi, 
the people seemed to be equally spell-bound. Not a sound was heard 
or^a movement seen, for they were all gazing in breathless astonishment 
at what took place before their eyes. So mystified and awe struck 
were they, that Jesus was regarded by them as something more than 
mortal man. Perhaps he was a God, they thought, — perhaps a demon, 
or an enchanter, at least. About a minute after the Rabbi had stood in 
immovable submission, Jesus spoke to him in a loud voice, and said 
" Rabbi! declare to all present my claim to parentage." Then the 
Rabbi, in a solemn and distinct voice, said : 

"Jesus of Nazareth is not the son of Joseph and -Mary. He knows 
not who is his earthly father, but he claims the True God of the Uni- 
verse as the father of his spirit. He is truly a son of God in a spiritual 
sense." 

"Now, my brethren," said Jesus addressing the people, "bear testi- 
mony of this man's words to himself." 

Then Jesus waved his hand towards the Rabbi, who immediately 
became restored to his natural self, when Jesus left the enclosure and 
passed through the people, to depart from the synagogue. 

As soon as the Rabbi was restored to his natural state, some of the 
people rushed up to him, and questioned him concerning what he had 
said in the rostrum. He denied any knowledge thereof, and said it 
must have been a trick of the Evil One, by whose agency this Jesus 
had worked. He then became more enraged than ever against the 
latter, and advised them to seize him and throw him over the brow of 
the precipice, as a worker of sorceries and mischief. He soon collected 
a small party, and rushed forward in pursuit of Jesus, whom they 
overtook at the door of the synagogue. They accordingly took hold of 
him, when with wild cries and shouts, they hurried him through the 
village to the south-west end, at the brink of which was the ravine, 
where they would have thrown him down. But as they approached 
within a few paces of the spot, four men armed with clubs, rushed from 
behind a hedge, who immediately fell upon them with great force ;• so 
that within a second or two, six or eight were laid prostrate with broken 
heads. The remainder of the party finding such an unexpected on- 
slaught, became seized with terror, and accordingly fled from the scene 
as fast as they could, leaving Jesus alone and unhurt. Two of the 
rescuers immediately took Jesus by the hands, and hurried him to the 
eastern road that led to the plains below. One of these was John of 
Galilee, and the other was John's brother, James ; a tall, robust young, 
man, with a long beard and hair of a sandy color, who happened to beat j 
Nazareth at this time on a matter of business. The other two rescuers! 
were Judas, who acted as captain of the band, and Cosbi his private 
aid. These brought up in the rear,— taking care that Jesus should not; 
be under the necessity of receiving any more such hospitable receptions j 
as that given to him by his loving townsfolks. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 135 



VISION ELEVENTH, 



Again, the Spirits impress the Medium's mind.— With electric pencil 
"" portraying upon the tablet of his consciousness a scene replete with 
personages endowed with life, motion and speech.— So exquisite 
are his perceptions, that their emotions are felt and their thoughts, ■ 
unexpressed, are seen and read, all true to external life, as they 
glide through the realm of thought like a beautiful dream. 

<U The noon-day sun dispensed its rays of light and fructifying power 
down upon the sparkling fresh waters of the lake of Genesareth, whose 
fair bosom was dotted with many fishing and trading vessels returning 
with the profits of the morning's toils, or exchanging wares between 
shore and shore. 

On the eastern shore the view is bounded by the tall, even line of 
mountains, which of yore bounded the lands of the Ammonites. On the 
west, by the long, uneven range of Judean mountains, the long, arched 
ijine of Tabor is seen, and the square-shaped hill with two tops, called 
the Hill of Beautitudes. Commencing from the shore at the north, the 
western mountains recede inwards, in form of a half moon for about 

1 seven miles along the lake, leaving a plain about five miles wide, well 
watered by springs. This was a beautiful, fertile spot, well cultivated 
and well inhabited; there being several neat villages around. The 

( remainder of the plain being divided into fields, orchards and gardens. 

j! This spot was called the land of Genesareth. 

f At the northern extremity of this spot, the town of Capernaum was 
seen— and below it, south, bordering on the lake, the small village of 
Bethsaida; on the opposite shore there was another of the same name. 
Between the lake and the cultivated plain, was a broad, open, sandy 
beach, with a border of thorn jungle between it and the former. The 

\ most north-eastern point of view, presented the dome-shaped hill from 

I which issued several warm springs, that sent their steaming waters 

• over the beach into the lake. And the most southern point of view, is 

1 where the Judean mountains curve in towards the lake, at the extremity 

f of the cultivated plain before spoken of. 

Along the edge of this lake, a level beach runs the whole way round, 
( i from north to s*uth: the southern end is roughly strewn with black 

1 and white stones of volcanic origin. But the central, or northern part 
\ is formed of smooth sand and a texture of shells and pebbles. Shrubs, 
] too, of the tropical thorn, fringe the greater part of the line of shore, 

mingled here and there with the bright pink color of the Oleander. On 

I this beach, which runs like a white line all round the lake, the hills 
J plant their dark bases, descending nowhere precipitately, but almost 

eveiy where presenting an alternation of soft grassy slopes and rocky 
] cliffs. Such was the scenery of the lake of Genesareth at the epoch hero 

II alluded to. 

The Bethsaida, situated on the north-western side of the lake, was a 
Jl small hamlet, consisting of a few houses, occupied by the fishermen and 
I their families, they being of the most humble description. The walls 



136 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

were of stone ; the roofs flat, covered with rushes,— and an open piazza, 
with a tew trees for shade, in front of each dwelling. 

The largest house in the place fronted the lake, from which an exten- 
sive view could be taken over this inland sea, to the dark line of the 
Ammonite mountains, in the background of the opposite shore. In the 
front of this house, a covered piazza ran the whole length of it, along 
which was a rude bench, used as a place of sitting and lounge ; this 
part of the dwelling was shaded by a row of locust trees, which were 
planted at a few feet distant, in a large yard, the latter being bounded by 
a low, stone wall ; within this yard were several appurtenances con- 
nected with the fishing business, and for the use of the family. 

The proprietor of this dwelling was one Simon, a tall, portly man, 
with ruddy complexion and blue eyes ; forehead broad, and rather low; 
nose nearly perpendicular, and gently rounded at the extremity ; his 
mouth and lips small ; chin rounded ; dark brown .hair flowing around 
his neck and shoulders, and his moustache and beard small, but full ; 
he, in all respects, indicated a sanguine temperament and an expression 
of countenance generally agreeable. 

His physiognomy would indicate that his moral qualities were bold- 
ness, self-confidence and a desire to progress in worldly affairs. He 
seemed to be one who could do a charitable act ; to have a keen sense of 
justice, yet would have no objection to sacrifice the latter, if necessary, 
to any end that he thought would conduce to his advantage. 

His dress consisted of a loose shirt and nether garment, of blue stuff, 
the latter reaching to his knees, with a leathern belt round his waist, 
in which was stuck a large knife, on the left side ; his legs, arms and 
feet were bare, being very much browned by exposure to the sun. 
Simon, upon particular occasions, wore a kind of loose vest and a 
mantle, for his body, a white tire for his head, and leathern buskins and 
sandals for his legs and feet. He was considered, by his humble neigh- 
bours, to be rich — for he owned two or three boats, the house he lived 
in, and a large stock of dried fish. Besides, he was the master fisher- 
man, who had most of the others of Bethsaida in his employ. He was 
consequently considered, in that small society, as a person of conse- 
quence and importance. 

Simon was sitting under his piazza, surrounded by his men — a rough, 
hardy, sun-burnt, loosely clad set of fellows, with naked feet and legs, 
with ragged beards and tangled hair, of various colons, uncombed and 
uncovered ; some of whom were reclining on the bench, and others under 
the shade of the trees, reposing from their labors. They had just 
returned from their morning's fishing; having met with fair success, 
their boats were hauled upon the shore, and the produce of their toil 
carried in baskets to the dwelling of the proprietor, where they were 
disposed of in the out-houses in the large yard. 

Simon seemed to be in excellent humor, for the success of that day's 
fishing was greater than usual, and more than he expected. 

"How many fishes didst thou say there were, brother Andrew?" 
inquired Simon, of a tall, robust man, with short curly hair, who bore 
a resemblance in features, to the speaker, though somewhat younger in 
years — for he was a brother. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 137 

"I counted forty, brother," answered Andrew, "and a very good 
number it is, considering the weight of them. ,, 

"But art thou sure there were forty?" inquired Simon, with a lively 
f interest expressed in his tone of voice. 

"Yes, brother, I am sure," returned Andrew; "for I counted my 
3 fingers and thumbs four times over, and so I cannot be mistaken." 
I "Well, now! this is very singular," observed Simon, giving great 
l emphasis to his words, so that his hearers should not mistake what he 
was saying. ."This day is my birth-day, and I am exactly forty years 
■ of age this very day. This I call a curious and lucky event." 

All his hearers gave an exclamation of surprise and looked up to 
,i him wondering. 

" Thou mayest well say a lucky event," remarked Andrew in a sulky 
tone, as though he were displeased with the turn of events in his bro- 
ther's favour. "Thy life seems to be full of these lucky events. I 
know not how it is that God should favour thee more than me, yet so it 
£ is. Thou hast become rich, while I, with all my struggling to do well, 
am no more than thy servant. I shall not be surprised if thou, some 
day, shouldst become the governor of a province." 
Simon was a little displeased with the remarks of his brother, as they 
1 evidently showed that Andrew was envious of his prosperity; but, as 
, in his last remark, he suggested the idea that he possibly might arrive 
at some distinction: that restored him to good humor, for he began to 
j entertain the hope that such a thing was possible. Then turning to his 
,. brother, with a smile upon his countenance, he said, as he patted him 
upon the shoulder : 

" Come Andrew, let us not quarrel with our fortunes, but thank God 

i for all things. If I have prospered hitherto, perhaps it will "be thy good 

fortune by and by. Come! as this is my birth-day, and I have been 

lucky enough to take an extra draft of fishes, suppose we take an extra 

draught of wine, and make ourselves merry and contented." 

To this proposition of Simon's, Andrew and all the others quite 
willingly agreed; then jokes and good humor prevailed, while the 
former ran into the house to get the wine, the latter banished his en- 
vious thoughts for the time. 

In a few minutes Simon returned, bearing upon his shoulder a large 
black goat skin containing about five gallons of wine, and in one hand 
he held a panier containing drinking cups or goblets made of beeves' 
horns. Placing the articles upon the- floor, he called all his men around 
him, telling them to partake of the exhilarating juice to their heart's 
content. He then distributed the cups, and untying the neck of the 
goat skin bottle, poured out the crimson beverage and fiHed every 
man's cup to the brim. As easy as fishes could quaff water, so easy 
could these fisherman quaff wine; and in the ratio of quantity they 
poured down, so did the thermometer of their blood go up, until they 
i attained that easy state of good humor, that jokes, stories and adven- 
tures were exchanged among them— which, to their simple minds, 
possessed a deep and marvellous interest. 

Thus, the party of fishermen continued in their hilarious enjoyment 
f for the greater part of an hour, when another personage made his ap- 



138 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

pearance on the scene. An old man entered the yard, leaning upon hia 
stick as he walked. He was bare headed, with long flowing white hair, 
bald on the top, very much tanned with the sun and wrinkled with old 
age. 

As soon as he came within view, Simon caught sight of him first, 
when he exclaimed : 

"By the God of Moses! here comes old Zebedee!" 

Then he instantly prepared another cup of wine. In a little while 
the old man approached the party, when he made a general salutation, 
which was acknowledged by the others with vociferous demonstrations 
of welcome. 

" Come, father Zebedee, take this cup of wine, before thou speakest 
one word," said Simon, as he proffered the cup. #"I am sure this sultry 
day must have parched thy tongue. Come! thou art welcome.' ' 

The old man did not seem willing to reject the offer of friendship, for 
taking the cup of wine, he made one long draught of it, which nearly 
deprived him of breath so great and powerful was it. Then said Simon 
as he patted him on the shoulder : 

" Now, old father, tell us the news : But first of all, hast thou heard 
of thy son John?" 

"Well, worthy Simon," replied old Zebedee, "I have news from 
Nazareth of a most wonderful nature." 

"Oh! what is it — what is it? " exclaimed Simon and the others. 

"And I have heard something of my son John," continued the old 
mar, "But I know not which to begin with, so I must think a bit." 

"Give us the news from Nazareth," said some of the party, while 
others wished him to state what he had heard from his son John. 

"Patience my good folks ! " cried the old man, as he seated himself 
upon the bench, — then all the party collected around to hear him. "I 
must tell it -my own way, so do not interrupt me." 

All parties being reduced to order, there was a general silence, when 
the old man spoke as follows : 

"You all remember that some time ago, John the Baptist was in this 
neighbourhood preaching. I never liked that preacher, for he looks 
and speaks as though he were crazy-like, and I believe a great many 
folks who listen to him become so too. Well, this old John preached 
many strange doctrines. One thing I remember in particular that he 
said. He said there was somebody coming after him greater than he 
was. Well, I did not understand what he meant by that, — whether he 
meant the one that was coming after him would be a giant, or whether 
he would be more crazy than John. However, so it Avas. My son John 
up to that time, was a very steady boy, though he used to stay out all 
| night sometimes, talking poetry to the moon; but he had a long talk 
with John the Baptist before he left, and two or three days after, my 
son John ran away from me. Well, it was ever so long before I heard 
of my son. At last, I heard he had been seen in the company of a man 
that John the Baptist baptized and named Jesus. Then, a few days 
ago, I heard that there was a man arrived at Nazareth, calling himself 
Jesus, who intended to deliver a discourse to the people of that village. 
Then I said to my son James, ' Go to Nazareth and see this man,— 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 139 

perhaps thou wilt find thy brother there: if so, bring him home.' So 
James went, according to my word ; since then, I have not heard from 
him. But I have heard something very strange from Nazareth. Well, 
it seems this man came to Nazareth, and proved to be a person who 
had been reared in that village from his infancy by the name of Jose\ 
son of Joseph the carpenter, and Mary his wife. No sooner did he 
come, then his mother died ; he buried her and mourned for her some 
days, then he entered the synagogue and preached. 

"Now comes the astonishing part of my news. It seems that this 
Jesus preached many strange things, so that the people were shocked. 
They cried out 'blasphemy ." and the Rabbi did the same. He accused 
Jesus of saying that he was the Son of God. Jesus told the Rabbi that 
he would make him confess and declare the same before all the people. 
The Rabbi bid Jesus defiance, when Jesus cast a spell over him— made 
him mount the rostrum and declare to the people that Jesus was the 
Son of God. Jesus, after doing what he wished with the Rabbi, released 
him from the speU, and then was about leaving the synagogue, when 
the Rabbi caused the people to rise against him as a sorcerer. They 
took him, and would have thrown, him down the ravine, but he escaped 
somehow. I understand my son John is with him. This is all I know 
about the affair, my friends,— perhaps we shall know more in a few 
days. But I hope my two sons are safe, and will return to me." 
All the parties were deeply interested in the narrative of old Zebedee, 
1 and completely astonished when the last act of Jesus was related. 
They knew not what to believe or how to comprehend it, but continued 
to express their wonder by various comical ejaculations. 

"Well! did I ever hear any thing like this before!" cried Andrew, 
whose protruding blue eyes denoted the effect of the marvellous tale. 
"Well! this beats brother Simon's story of the big fish. This man 
Jesus, or whoever he is, to do the like of that, must be an enchanter, a 

sorcerer, or a " 

"Hold, Andrew, hold!" cried Simon, interrupting his brother in 
what he was about to say. "Do not say anything disrespectful of a 
man thou knowest not. I think I know a little about this Jesus, or 
Jose, that I will tell thee. Several years ago I used to visit Nazareth, 
when I was somewhat acquainted with a lad by the name of Jose\ If 
this Jesus be the same person I knew under the name of Jose\ we 
ought not to say anything wrong or disrespectful of him, for I am sure 
heean not deserve it. The lad Jose I speak of was very handsome, 
amiable, kind and gentle; besides, he was very learned, or thought to 
be so,— and I am sure he was incapable of becoming an impostor, or 
anything bad." 

Simon paused for a moment, as he cast his glance in the direction of 
the yard gate, when lie added: 

"But look here!— here comes one who can give us information. He 
is well acquainted with the people of Nazareth." 

By the last remark of Simon's, all eyes were turned towards the 
entrance of the yard, when they perceived an old man advancing, with 
a very peculiar shaped head that bore some resemblance in form to an 
inverted bell, and which was covered with short, white curly hair, very 



140 THE TBUE HISTORY OF 

much like sheep's wool. His head was broad and bulging at the top; 
his forehead and temples tapering down until joined by a long, narrow, 
meagre face, which seemed to have the expressions of doubt, suspicion 
and acerbity of temper. 

This new comer, when he approached the party in the piazza, gave a 
short, surly nod of his head by way of salutation, then glanced around 
him, with seeming distrust and disapprobation of the company. 

"Well, Nathaniel, how are the times?" inquired Simon, by way 
of a leader in conversation. " I have just been speaking of thee." 

"Euh!" exclaimed the old man with great indifference — "Nothing 
good I judge — for one person seldom speaks good of another behind 
his back." 

"I was merely stating that I thought thou couldst give us some 
information upon a certain matter," added Simon. 

" Euh !" again ejaculated Nathaniel ; " people do not want information, 
they want confirmation of their own notions and ways." 

"Do not be so snappish and surly, Nathaniel," remarked Simon, 
"we merely wish to ask thy opinion of a certain man, of whom, we 
think thou knowest something. We want to know something of his 
History, nature and qualities — for he is now about making some excite- 
ment in the world." 

"Where does he come from?" demanded Nathaniel with great 
assurance and a dogmatical air, as though the question when answered, 
Was a perfect criterion to decide upon any man's character. 

"He has been bred a Nazarene, and comes from that locality," an- 
swered Simon. 

Old Nathaniel gave a diagonal twist of his mouth, and a horrid leer 
with his large leaden eyes, and then replied : 
" Can any thing good come out of Nazareth?" 
"Why not?" demanded Simon indignantly. 

"The fact is, brother," remarked Andrew in a jocular tone, "our 
friend Nathaniel is predjudiced against Nazareth. He thinks nothing 
good can come from thence ever since he took that young wife of his 
from that locality, who curls his hair so nicely." 

A general burst of laughter followed this remark of Andrew's, while 
the thin visage of Nathaniel was dreadfully distorted with anger. 
Before the company could recover from their merriment, another 
fisherman, whose name was Philip, a tall, awkward, simple looking 
man, hastily approached the parties, and announced that he had seen 
the two sons of Zebedee in company of two strangers, approaching the 
house ; one of whom was a very handsome, dignified man, — as much 
so as King Solomon. 

"Thanks be to God!" exclaimed old Zebedee, as he arose from his 
seat in the excitement of his joy. "I shall once more behold my 
darling boy John ; and possibly one of these strangers will prove to bo 
the much talked of Jesus." 

The company was now thrown into considerable commotion. All 
boisterious hilarity was dispensed with for the time ; every one drawing 
himself up and assuming the best attitude and countenance he could — 
for they had an indistinct idea that somebody superior to themselves 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 141 

*as coming in their midst, which caused them to wait with a slight 
trepidation the approach of the great man. ^ torB A 

In a few minutes, the two sons of Zehedee, John and James, entered 
the vard, followed hy Jesus and Judas. When old Zebedee s cw he 
party adducing, he jumped down from the piazza, and with totter 
steps hastened to meet them. Then John perceiving ^ the J .^"J 
towards him, left the side of Jesus and ran to meet him; whex the 
fether and son, falling upon each other's neck, embraced one another 

'"of myiS ^claimed the old man, "how couldst thou leave thy 

^•Dea^father," responded John, after kissing his sire on both cheeks 
"be thou silent for a while, when I will explain all to thee. I must 
now introduce my new master, Jesus, to Simon." 

John, leaving his father in the company of James his brother, and 
rejoining Jesus and Judas, then advanced towards Simon, who was 

anding outside of the piazza, when he, with the most resp ctful 
formalities of the time and country, introduced them separately to the 
maTter fisherman. Simon made the most profound bow to Jesus-so 
tow aid he bend himself that his fingers touched the ground; then 
rising, with an air expressive of great reverence, he said : 
™ Most Worthy and Learned Sir, the fame of thy wisdom and most 
wonderful powers have outstripped thy speed ot .^^ f ?°»™* 
I have heard of thee, praise be to God! I consjder myself happy in 
living, that I can testify my respect to thee. Be pleased, then to accept 
the use of my house, for all therein is at thy command, and I will be 

th " I think 'thee, my friend, for thy hospitable reception," replied Jesus, 
who seemed to be much pleased with the manner of Simon. There 
is something in thy face that tells me thou hast a good heart. What is 
thy name?" 

"My name is Simon," answered the host. 

"Simon," repeated Jesus musingly ; " I like it not-itfa not expressive 
enough of thy character-it is too passive. I see something m thy 
nature upon which I would like to lay the foundation of my hopes 
firm and steadfast as a rock. Ah! if thou wert one of my followers, I 
would like to call thee Cephas." ' . 

"Worthy Sir," returned Simon, "if in the course of events I should 
become one of thy followers, my name shall be as thou sayest." 

In the meantime, John had been explaining to his father the cause of 
his leaving him,-how he had been informed by John the Baptist that 
Jesus was the Messiah spoken of by the Prophets, and that he was 
destined to become the King and Ruler of Judea, if not of the whole 
world; and that he would make Princes of all his followers. He, 
therefore, sought the first opportunity to join Jesus and become attached 
to him; for at some future- day he should, no doubt, become a person 
of great power and dignity. James, his brother, would have the same 
chance of being aggrandized, and his father would be made rich and 
honored in his old age. This tale John made the old man firmly be- 
lieve, gaining his consent Unit lie and his brother should follow Jesus 



142 



THE TRUE HISTORY OF 



in his adventures, and progress to eminence. John then approached 
Jesus with his father, giving a formal introduction, which took place 
with a show of reverence on one side, and an easy gracefulness on the 
other. 

"Then thou art the father of my much beloved John?" remarked 
Jesus inquiringly to old Zebedee, smiling his satisfaction of the inter- 
view. 

"I am, worthy Sir," replied the old man bowing-" and of James, the 
elder: two of the finest boys that ever called a man father." 

"Thou art blessed, Zebedee, in thy children," remarked Jesus • "but 
art thou willing to part with them, that they may follow me"' 

"Worthy Sir," replied Zebedee in a tremulous voice, "though I love 
my children dearly, and it will grieve me to part with them -yet 
having confidence in thee, and for their benefit do I freely commit 
them to thy charge. But, when thou shalt be at the height of thy 
eminence, which is thy destiny, do not forget the children of old Zeb- 
edee— let them share with thee thy prosperity and exaltation." 

"Doubt not, Zebedee," answered Jesus earnestly; "Whatever may 
be my adventurous career in this world, thy sons shall not be forgotten 
but shall receive all the benefit and exaltation that I can confer " 

Then Zebedee stooped down low, took up one of the corners of Jesus' 
coat and kissed it; and as he took leave of Jesus, his eyes glistened 
with joyful emotions. 

Simon then brought Jesus a cup of wine, of which the latter partook - 
when returning the vessel to the host, he observed: 

' I have not acquainted thee, worthy Simon, with the nature of mv 
visit." J 

. " Come this way, Sir," said Simon, going under the piazza and point- 
ing to the bench; "We will be seated and confer alone." 

They were soon seated, when Jesus proceeded to inform Simon of the 
nature of his principles and designs. How he wished to improve the 
mental condition of his fellow men, by giving them an insight of their 
true nature; also, of things generally around them, and a right con- 
ception of the True God. How he was at war with the impositions of 
the Priesthood, and the erroneous notions and prejudices of society 
He stated the plans he had adopted to carry out his designs; his desire 
of having some followers, whom he might instruct in his principles 
and send abroad to spread the good cause. He told of his reception 
at Nazareth, after he had been absent from it for many years-how he 
had buried his last of kin; and then how he had given his first dis- 
course to his townfolks, and the progress he had made until the Rabbi 
opposed him. How he had exercised his power over the Rabbi- and 
finally, how the Rabbi exercised his power over him by driving him 
out of the town, with a narrow escape of his life. " I tell thee Simon " 
he said in conclusion, "a man is not much of a prophet in his own 
country." 

" Exactly so," responded Simon, with great animation at the thought 
suggested, "That is the very answer I give my men, when they will 
not believe my Big Fish story. But now, good Sir, let us go into the 
house, and I will introduce thee to my women." 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 143 

"One word more, before we go into thy house,' ' remarked Jesus. U I 
have made thee acquainted with my designs and wishes ; if, therefore, 
thou art willing to join thy fortune with mine, I would advise thee to 
throw up thy old profession for one more worthy of thee, and more 
exalting. Instead of being a fisherman, thou shalt be a. fisher -of -men." 

Simon seemed puzzled for a few moments what answer to make to 
this proposition of Jesus', but at length he replied: 

"Sir, I will take a little while to consider of it, and give thee an 
answer before thou leavest me." 

They then entered the house. In the meantime, Judas had been 
mingling in conversation with the company — first with one, then with 
another, — relating what he had seen or heard of Jesus : praising him 
for his learning and wisdom, and enlarging and construing things 
always in his favour. When speaking of the mysterious power he had 
of curing diseases, he magnified what he had seen and heard into 
miracles; at the same time, hinting that he did not doubt of his being 
the true Messiah. Then he touched upon points of worldly interest, 
that all those who followed him would have in prospect. Finally, his 
eulogiums of Jesus and the glowing prospects he pictured in other 
respects, were greedily devoured and believed in by the simple fisher- 
men ; so that they were made converts at heart before they were re- 
quired to be so. But as soon as Simon entered the house in company 
with Jesus, the company in the yard broke up and dispersed to their 
several homes. John and James went home with their father, leaving 
Judas to attend upon Jesus until their return. Judas finding himself 
thus alone, reclined upon the bench, when a train of thoughts passed 
through his mind, similar to what is here £>resented : — 

"Base, low-minded, sordid wretches!" he said to himself, and his 
upper lip gave a scornful curl. "There is no difference among any of 
them, except that one is less cunning than another. However learned 
and noble-minded my new master may be, I see he has very little 
perception of human nature from external indications, or he would 
not join himself with such men as these, when the meanest traits of 
human nature are stamped upon the visages of all of them. Thou art 
a poor judge of physiognomy, my master, or thou wouldst not have 
said there was something that pleased thee in the visage of that Simon, 
on which thou wouldst base thy hopes. I have read his countenance, 
and pronounce thee in error. I read it thus: there is nothing that that 
man would not be willing to do, with the prospect of sordid gain or 
aggrandizement. They are all alike; they will follow thee as long as 
they can see a prospect of serving their grovelling interests, but when 
that is past, and dangers or difficulties encompass thee, they will leave 
thee to meet thy fate alone. It is a great pity that thy benevolent heart 
and noble intentions should be sacrificed to such men as these, when I 
could prevent it, if I dare. But ah! my own cursed self-interest is in 
the way. O that I were free ! I would do otherwise." Judas heaved a 
sigh. "Xo, no,— I must not think of it; I must be as bad as the rest, 
though their course is of choice, while mine is of necessity— there! 
there is some excuse for me. Ah! here comes this Simon; L niusi 
sound him, and endeavour to bring him to my views— tor I shall want 



144 THE TKUE HISTORY OF 

more help to carry out the design of my master Saul. I think I shall 

not have a very difficult task to convert him to- — to to be one with 

me." 

Simon, who had re-appeared at the door during the latter part of 
Judas' reflections, looking around and seeing no one but him, ap- 
proached the latter and observed : 

"As I have done my duties as host to thy master, it will become me 
to attend to the servant." % 

" Thou art kind and considerate," replied Judas with a smile. 

"I thank thee for the compliment," replied Simon; "Wilt thou take 
a cup of my wine, Sir? — it is the best on this side of the mountains." 

Judas gave his assent to that agreeable proposal, when Simon went 
to the black goat skin bottle and found that there was still some wine 
in it; when bringing it forward he filled two cups, one of which he 
presented to Judas, and the other he reserved for himself. He then 
observed : 

"Come, let us be social, and without ceremony make each other's 
acquaintance." 

Judas considered this a hint that a little confidential conversation 
would be agreeable to the host, which was the very thing he desired 
also ; yet, he would not show himself too eager for it, in case Simon 
should suspect any design upon him. 

"How dost thou like this wine?" inquired Simon, and then he 
quickly added "Thou must excuse my blunt manner of addressing 
thee, for I know not thy name." 

" I think thy wine very agreeable," replied Judas. "As to my name, 
kind Sir, I must tell thee it is not very common in this part of the 
world, for it is Judas." 

"Judas!" echoed Simon: "I have heard that name before, but I 
know it is not a common one. It sounds well upon the ear, and I am 
certain it must be respectable." 

"I can assure thee that I came of a noble family," replied Judas as 
he sipped his wine. "There is nothing significant in it of meanness 
or treachery, any one may know." 

" Certainly not," replied Simon ; " I should rather think that it signi- 
fied everything that was great and noble ; and if I am not mistaken in 
thy looks, the name is appropriate to the man that bears it." 

Judas stroked his beard and glanced archly at Simon, as he said to 
himself: "I wonder if he is serious in what he says. If he is, he is a 
fool, and if not, he is trying to make a fool of me ; if he mean the latter, 
I think there are two of us." 

"Talking of names," resumed Simon, "didst thou notice what thy 
master said to me, concerning my name?" 

"I did not," answered Judas — "What did he say?" 

"Why, he said that my name of Simon was not expressive enough 
of my character,'" added Simon; "And he said if I were one of his 
followers, he would call me Cephas. Now what is there in me re- 
sembling a rock?— for I understand that Cephas means a rock, in the 
Greek or some other language." 

"He wished to intimate," replied Judas, "that he saw in thee the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 



145 



I malities of firmness, steadfastness and surety; which are necessary to 
he suooort of any great enterprise or virtuous principles. 

"Weir P erhaps y fe is right," remarked Simon, "He may see more 
rood in me than I can myself." 

"That is generally the case with modest and disinterested men, 

observed Judas, and his Up curled as he said so; "But a sensible man 

I aever should be ashamed to acknowledge any good qualities he is 

^f/wordThS" great reason in them, worthy Judas," rejoined 
i Simon, who began to feel and think so favourably of his guest as to 
venture on confidential ground-" and they remind me of a remark 
! thy master made to me that I cannot understand." 
" What was it? " inquired Judas indifferently. 

"He was advising me to leave off my profession as fisherman for one 
more worthy of me, when he said 'If thou wilt join me, in place of a 
fisherman I will make thee zfisher-of-men.' Now what he means by 
that, I am not bright enough to understand. Perhaps thou canst 
explain it to me, worthy Judas." 

■ "Let us take another taste of this wine, mine host," observed Judas 
-for his design was to render Simon as communicative as Possible 
with the aid of the stimulus. " Perhaps with its aid, we shall be better 
enabled to solve this doubtful part of speech." „■.",.. 

"Most willingly, Sir," answered Simon, who immediately had resort 
to the black goat skin bottle and cups, which were filled and soon 
drank; and then Judas observed: 

"That expression of my master' s, flsher-of-men, was nothing more 
than a figure of speech ; which, though a bad one as designed to express 
his meaning, means simply this: A fisherman is one who catches/^: 
therefore, a fisher-of-men must mean one who catches men-that is to 
sav in other words, one, who by greater cunning and knowledge, is 
enabled to entrap men; to get the advantage of other men; to bring 
other men under his influence and within his power." 

"Well, what does thy master mean that I should do with men, when 
I get them into my power? " inquired Simon innocently. 

"That is the point where my master's figure of speech does not meet 
his meaning, which made me say it was a bad one," replied Judas. 
"My master's principles are of an extreme benevolent nature. He 
wishes to exercise an influence over his fellow men to their benefit- 
to cure them of their vices and diseases-give them enlightennie.it- 
and to make them improved, refined and happy mortals. Now such a 
course is not suggested in the figure of speech he used. The fisherman 
does not catch fish for the fishes' benefit, but for his own-for when he 
catches them, he either eats them or sells them to others to be eaten. I 
think I have explained my masters meaning, also the difference between 
it and the figure of speech he used. What dost thou think ol u P 

"I think," replied Simon, as™ gave a comical twist <>t his month, 

"that the fisher-of -men would not receive much benefit from his toil, it 

he carried out thy master's principles." 

•i "That is exactly my view of it," remarked Judas, and he gave a 

short laugh. "Now, worthy Simon, suppose a man carnos out my 

10 



146 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

master's figure of speech in all its particulars, how wouldst thou 
like it?" 

"Thou must explain, Sir; I am not quite so bright as thou art in 
this matter," answered Simon. 

"Well,' resumed Judas, drawing himself closer to Simon, and re- 
garding him with a keen, scrutinizing look, "The fisherman catches 
fish. Well, why does he do so? Is it not to convert them to his own 
oenefit? Has he the right to do so? Yes ; for his superior power gives 
him the right according to nature. Now, on the other hand, we will 
say the fisherman catches men — that is, he subdues other men to his 
power. Why does he do so? Is it not to convert them to his own 
benefit? Has he aright to do so? Yes — for might makes right; and 
we know that whatever is said against the theory of it, it has always 
been so in practice." 

"Well! there is something comprehensible in that manner of stating 
the case," interposed Simon, with a pleasing change of features. "I 
perceive, worthy Judas, that thou hast been in the big school of the 
world. Go on, I pray thee." 

"Now Sir," resumed Judas, "we will bring this matter home to 
ourselves and circumstances, and see how it will affect us. Thou 
wouldst not trouble thyself to catch fish, unless thou couldst benefit 
thyself thereby. Thou wouldst not throw them away, or turn them 
back into the sea." 

"By Moses I think not!" exclaimed Simon. 

"Neither wouldst thou trouble thyself to subdue men to thy power, 
unless thou hadst a motive and will in so doing ; and when once thou 
shouldst have them in thy power, thou wouldst hold them so for thy 
especial benefit." 

"I certainly would," responded Simon emphatically. 

"Well then, Simon," resumed Judas in a soft, persuasive tone of 
voice, "Suppose we were partners in interest, and I should say to thee, 
* Simon, I have a man in my power whom I wish to hold and guide in 
a certain manner, until I shall accomplish a certain end: I wish to 
have thy assistance to that end in view, — if thou wilt give it, I will 
insure thee fifty shekels of gold.' What would be thy answer, worthy 
Simon?" 

Simon threw his body back a piece, placed his eyes upon Judas, and 
regarded him with great intentness for several seconds, as though he 
would penetrate the innermost man. At length he drew himself for- 
ward, and said in a low whispering voice: 

"Why, in that case, worthy Judas, if thou wert in earnest, I should 
say I am thy humble servant." 

"I am in earnest," returned Judas, "and the proposals I have just 
supposed, shall be in reality." 

" How — in what way?" cried Simon in mingled astonishment and joy. 

"Let us pledge ourselves in another cup of wine to be true to each 
other, then I will explain myself," replied Judas. 

Then the two conspirators filled their cups from the black bottle, 
made many protestations of mutual fidelity, interest and secresy as 
they drew closer to each other, conversing in low tones. Judas then 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 147 

ustated the relation between him and his two masters — keeping the 
| name of Saul in the background — the designs he wished to accomplish 
^regarding Jesus, the manner by which it was to be achieved, and the 
different points of interest that might be obtained; so that, at length, 
i-Simon was completely prevailed upon to give his assistance to carry 
pout all that Judas suggested. Then a plan of proceedings was adopted, 
land all other necessary matters discussed, and finally, they were about 
pto separate with a good understanding of each other. Simon's eyes 
|l suddenly brightened, as though some lucky thought had just entered 
jfchis head. Then placing his finger to his chin, he cast an arch look 
tupon Judas and observed : 

I " My worthy Judas, one more word with thee before we part. I have 
Ban excellent idea just come into my head." 

"What is it? " inquired Judas impatiently. 

\ "My wife's mother is generally ailing with one complaint and an- 

I other," replied Simon. "I will ask thy master to use his power over 

her — there is no doubt he can ease her complaints; then, when he shall 

I do so, in order to enlarge the report of his powers among the people, I 

will magnify them into a miracle that he has performed upon the old 

woman. I will report it all over the neighbourhood that * Simon's 

wife's mother lay sick of a fever, and that Jesus laid his hand upon 

i her, when she was instantly cured.' " 

"That is a good idea," responded Judas laughing. 



VISION TWELFTH. 

Again, the /Spirits their nocturnal visit make, when quick as lightning'' s 
flash their subtle powers descend upon me; penetrating my spiritual 
essence; sever the links which connect me with mortal sense; com- 
manding with arbitrary sway the images of thought to appear, and 
act according to their ivills. — Thus another scene appears before 
the mental eye, and another condition of past history is enacted. 

On the south-western verge of the plain of Genesareth, there was 
once a spot admired for its beauty, and noted in history as a much 
cherished scene in the career of Jesus. The western background was 
formed of a square-shaped hill with two tops, rising not more than a 
hundred feet above the plain; the crest of which was covered with 
trees of various kinds: the Cyprus, cedar, pine, mulberry and oak 
predominating. On the western side, it gradually sloped down to tho 
narrow but fertile plain, except at one particular spot, where the base 
of the mount terminated suddeajf by a small ridge of rook, presenting 
a perpendicular and even front of about ten feet above the plain. 
Around the base of the mount and along the plain, at this spot, there 
were but few trees, but here and there a copse of shrubs or a rklge of 
thorny pear: the ground was mostly open and covered with luxuriant 
grass. 



148 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

The view extending eastward, took in a portion of the lake a^id a part 
of the north-eastern mountains — the intervening plain and the moun- 
tains surrounding the spot, filled up the scene. 

Some days had passed since Judas and Simon had become friends on 
a basis of mutual interests and secret understanding, in which they 
had industriously persevered in spreading all around the neighbouring 
villages wonderful reports concerning the man Jesus. They appointed 
a day, when all the people who chose might assemble at the particular 
spot as above described, where the great and wonderful man, Jesus, 
would address them, and afterwards use his mysterious power to the 
benefit of the sick, in the curing of diseases. In the meantime, Jesus 
passed his hours at the house of Simon, or among the family of Zebedee. 

On the day appointed, a great multitude assembled in the forenoon, 
on the verge of the plain and along the base of the mountain with two 
tops, round about the spot of the rocky ridge that intervened between 
the mount and the plain. They were of all classes and characters— the 
greater portion being poor working people, who had come from the 
various villages of the neighbourhood. But there were others of higher 
standing and condition, who were attracted to the scene by report of 
the great man — having come from towns and cities on the other side of 
the mountains; and some travellers even from the Holy City itself, 
among them some spies from the Sanhedrim and the Government. 

The scene was a lively and interesting one : all the people being 
attired in their best and gayest clothing and ornaments. TJie long, 
flowing coats, robes and mantles of gay colors, their ornamented girdles 
and fanciful tires or head dresses of the men, who seldom wore any 
coverings upon their heads, except on occasions like the present. The 
long white veils and long ear rings of the females, with their jewelled 
• arms and bright colored dresses, presented a scene of interest and gaiety 
not often presented in that part of the world. Nearly every one carried 
a small panier, in which were provisions of bread, fruit and fish, ready 
prepared for consumption; while many men — the more humble in 
attire, supposed to be servants — carried goat skin bottles containing 
water, and some of wine, which they thought requisite for the occasion. 
Some of them formed themselves into small parties, seated around a 
tree ; some were in indiscriminate groups, and others standing, walking 
or reclining upon the grass here and there alone : but all were in close 
proximity to the platform-rock at the base of the mount, from which it 
was understood Jesus would address them. 

The people, generally, seemed to be engaged in discussing the merits 
of the coming great man — some, in a quiet whispering conversation, 
while others, seeming to be excited, gave vent to louder expressions. 

"I tell thee what," said an old man, one of a small group that he was 
addressing with evident zeal, judging from his tone and manner, " This 
Jesus must be something more than^, mortal man. No man that I 
ever saw could do what he has done." 

"But he denies being anything more than a man," remarked another 
person. "Did he not address the people as brethren, at Nazareth, and 
made no pretensions to be otherwise?" 

"That matters nothing," replied the first speaker. "Some men are 



i 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 149 

aot as great as they think themselves to be, while other men are greater 
man they think themselves to be. This Jesus is known to do wonderful 
things. It is known, that while he was a youth at Nazareth, under the 
name of Jos£, that he cured many complaints among his neighbours 
by simply touching them. Besides, did not Simon's wife's mother lay 
sick of a fever a few days ago, and did he not cure her instantly? Did 
be not cure one of our neighbours of a stiff neck by simply rubbing it? 
And he has done many other wonderful things that I know of. What 
iid he do to the Rabbi at Nazareth ? Did he not cast a spell over him and 
make him declare sentiments he before opposed? and when the Rabbi 
r 2ame to himself, he said he had no power of resistance, and knew not 
what he had said or done. The Rabbi declared, when he was under 
that spell, that Jesus was not the son of Joseph and Mary, but that he 
,was the Son of God." 

: " That last idea was declared by Jesus himself," remarked the second 
speaker; "But that is to be taken in a certain sense — for he said we are 
all children of God, if we live in a state of purity and seek after 
righteousness." 

' " Did not John the Baptist say," resumed the first speaker, "that this 
slesus was the Son of God, and the true Messiah that the Prophets spoke 
"of? Did he not say that when he baptized him, he heard the voice of 
God in thunder, saying 'This is my Son,' and saw his spirit descend 
'Upon his head?" 

"Well, it is generally known that John the Baptist is a crazy man," 
returned the second speaker, "and therefore no credit ought to be given 
-to his testimony." 

"If John the Baptist is crazy," said the first speaker, "then I am 
: crazy too— for I believe it." 

The first speaker then left the group, seeming to be much excited. 

A sudden commotion was now seen among the people: all those that 
•were reclining upon the ground suddenly sprang to their feet, when 
:their attention was drawn to the slope of the mountain before them. 
They then saw a body of men descend from a copse above; and when 
they came to the verge of the declivity, they took up a position on the 
ledge of rock close to the edge — so that they were in view of the- people 
beneath and around them. As soon as they took up their position, 
there was a loud shout of acclamation by the people and much com- 
motion for a little while; but it gradually subsided as Jesus, standing 
alone in front of them, waved to and fro a branch of cedar, which 
intimated that quietness and order were required,— then the multitude 
soon became as still as death. 

Jesus appeared in his usual long blue garment, open at the top, ex- 
posing to view the beautiful curves of his neck, throat and should 
His head being bare, displayed his glossy dark hair as it played around 
his neck and shoulders. He stood erect, with an air of the noble dignity 
of true manhood; his broad, high, spotless forehead, which seemed bo 
expressive of majesty and wisdom, crowned his dark, fascinath 
jWhich beamed with serene love and satisfaction with all around him. 
On his right side stood Judas, with due deference and hum 
pressed on his countenance ; and John his personal attendant, holding 



150 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

his tire and mantle, with James his brother by his side. On his left 
was Simon, who had now assumed the name of Cephas, or Peter — as 
he was afterwards called — having doffed his fisherman's garb, and 
dressed himself in a long gray coat with a red girdle, since he had 
undertaken his new occupation of ftsher-of-me?i. He cast his eyes over 
the multitude with an air of importance, gratulating himself on the good 
opportunity he should have of trying his new vocation, and speculating 
upon the profits he should make thereby. Beside him stood Philip, a 
new follower to the new vocation, who was equally disinterested in 
following Jesus, though not initiated into the secrets of Judas. In the 
rear stood old Nathaniel with his bell-shaped head, who held converse 
with old Zebedee with his hoary locks. On either side of Jesus stood 
two new followers, who, by means of staves, supported a rude canopy 
of cloth over his head to ward off the sun's oppressive rays. 

When quietness was perfectly established, Jesus commenced to ad- 
dress the people in a mild and melodious voice. His enunciation was 
slow and distinct at first, but as he progressed with his subject, he 
became more animated and rapid, more impressive, more eloquent and 
fascinating ; so that the people seemed to lose all consciousness of their 
identity and their locality, so absorbed were they with the interest of 
the theme. 

"My Friends and Brethren," he said. "It seems, from the best 
knowledge we can acquire concerning the phenomena of nature, that 
the whole universe is subject to change. That, though the principles 
by which God rules the universe seem to be the same, yet there is 
nothing that is not undergoing a change, — with the social relations of 
man it is more particularly so. It seems that though the fundamental 
principles upon which man is constructed, remain the same, yet, as an 
individual, or in society as a nation, he is ever undergoing a change, — 
making a progression towards a better state, or a retrogression to a 
worse. It seems that God, having made man with certain senses, fa- 
culties and propensities necessary for his wants in life, and given hinl a j 
principle of intelligence, has left him to work out by his experience, all j 
that wisdom and power which his wants and pleasures may require or 
demand. Yes, my brethren: the intelligence and power of man comes 
through the experience of the past. That experience may be of a happy 
nature, or, it may be sad. In general, it is a sad and painful one he 
goes through before he becomes impressed with intelligence to benefit 
him in the future. 

"How has it been with our people, as a nation? We have gone 
" through a long historical series of sad experiences, from the dawn of 
our history to the present day. Great have been our afflictions, great 
our sufferings, and great our shame and misery ; which continue along 
the roll of time without the prospect of an end. What have we gained 
from all this sad experience as a nation? Nothing but woe and discord 
as yet. Shall we always remain in this sad state as a nation? Shall we 
always remain ignorant of the cause of our weakness and misery? No, 
my friends: there are some persons prompted by the love of their 
fellow men, who have had boldness enough to look down the long vista 
of our historical career, — who have been enabled to discover, and have 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 151 



been courageous enough to declare that all our social compacts have 
been founded on error, ignorance, superstition and tyranny, instead of 
wise principles and good social laws, which our sad history ought to 
J have taught us. Yes, my brethren, — we have gone astray from the 
principles implanted in us by the God of Nature, and believed the false 
j fabrications of a vile Priesthood; who have flattered our vanities by 
telling us we were the chosen people of their God Jehovah, while they 
fastened the fetters of mental slavery the firmer upon us. Under such 
great errors and impositions we have been ruled through all our his- 
torical career by despotic Priests and tyrannical Kings ; amidst anarchy, 
confusion, bloody wars, rapine and general destruction, in which our 
strength has been weakened, our substance wasted, our tribes lost, — 
kept in continual ignorance of our natures, and now become vassals to 
a foreign power. O, my brethren ! had it not been for the machinations 
of a vile Priesthood, we might, long ago, have learned something of 
what we are, and the phenomena of the universe by which we are 

fl surrounded. We should have found out that we all are the children of 
the Great God of Nature, and not the chosen people of a fictitious God 

j as represented by them. We should have learned that the True God 
placed us here on an equality of power and means, to bring our various 
faculties into exercise, to gain intelligence, improve and excell ; so that 
as we advanced from age to age, we should ultimately arrive at a state 
of excellence far superior to what we are now. Let us pass no more 
time in vain regrets, for if the past ages have been passed in folly and 
misery, there is yet still hope for a different state of things. Let us 
shake off the scales from our eyes and look around us, for now the 
dawn of a new era is about to commence. The day star of hope an- 
nounces the coming of a new day, which shall disperse all the darkness 
of the past, and shall reveal to us the various obstacles over which we 
have hitherto stumbled. It shall show us the little bright house upon 
the hill, and the path that leads thitherward. 

"Now, my brethren, let me impress you with a few observations 
pertaining to you individually. The True God who made us has en- 
dowed every man and woman with a divine principle, independent of 
the common understanding. This principle is the source of all life, of 
consciousness and feeling. God has given it to us to cultivate and 
improve, that it may be productive of blessings in this life, and assure 
to us a more blessed one hereafter. If you take a seed and plant it in 
the ground, by cultivating it with tender care it will rise up and grow 
to a goodly tree, bearing rich fruit and giving you a comfortable shade. 
So it is with this divine principle which God has given you. If you 
cultivate it carefully it will expand and grow, bearing rich fruit all 
your lives, and overshadowing you with a celestial home after you 
have passed the confines of mortal death. But, my friends, whoever is 
neglectful of cultivating this principle that is within him, but forgetteth 
that he has it, or is in ignorance oi' its existence, passing through a liie 
of vice and wickedness, it will not grow up for him a goodly tree, giving 
him fruit or a shade in a celestial home. No; it will become extinct. 
with his corporeal being, and return to the elements oi earth. My 
brethren, in order that you may know how to cultivate this divine 



152 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

principle, I will give you some rules or precepts concerning the most 
prominent and primitive duties of your social position; in the per- 
formance of which, this divine principle is more or less dependent for 
its welfare: — 

" Firstly, I will speak relative to our duties to our persons. Secondly, 
of duties to our families. Thirdly, of love and harmony among our 
relations or kin. Fourthly, of duties to our neighbours. Fifthly, of 
obedience to our government, if just. Sixthly, of duties to the world 
at large, making all men brethren. Seventhly, of our duties to our- 
selves. Eighthly, of duties to our enemies. Ninthly, of obligation to 
conform to the principles of nature. Tenthly, of our acknowledgement 
of the Heavenly Father. 

"In accordance with the first duty, you must remember under all 
circumstances, that your bodies are not yourselves. The Divine Spirit 
which God has given you to cultivate, is the man, and not the body. 
The body is but a vehicle in which you live, and have connexion with 
the external world. It is the house as it were, in which you live during 
your residence on the earth. Therefore you must pay such respect to it 
only as something of less consequence than your inward selves ; yet 
you must perform all the necessary duties to it that its nature shall 
demand, to make it a comfortable and desirable location during the 
time your spirit shall need it while on earth. You must preserve it 
from all the inclemencies and ravages of the elements. You must keep 
it from all impurities without and within — being careful to perform all 
its private offices in due time and season. You must give it plenty of 
pure air, and pure water to quench the thirst of the blood, and perform 
all necessary ablutions. All necessary food must be supplied to it in 
due time and proper portion — giving sufficient to satisfy hunger and no 
more, choosing the most simple and wholesome, — remembering that 
you eat to live, and not live to eat ; for if you eat and drink more than 
its nature demands, you will engender bad habits, which will engender 
disease and misery. If your bodies should be ailing through accident 
or otherwise, resort to pure water and fasting, and avoid taking all 
poisons under the name of medicaments ; and thus by conforming to 
all other rules of prudence, your bodies will recover their usual health 
and vigor. Regular exercise is also necessary to insure tone, soundness 
and strength, the developement of all its parts and functions until it 
shall arrive at maturity. 

" One thing more I will observe on this head. When the impulses of 
certain passions are developed within you, study how to administer to 
their necessary wants, without accellerating or retarding them in the 
due course of their natures ; but let all your proceedings therein be of 
a secret and chaste nature. By so doing, the body will become a lit 
habitation on earth for the pure spirit to dwell in. 

" Secondly, are the duties incumbent upon us in relation to our 
families. The most sacred obligation of a man on earth is the relation 
between himself and family. God has considered it so necessary to 
the preservation and perpetuation of the species, that he has impressed 
this obligation upon every kind of animal on the earth. With all other 
animals it is instinct, but with men it is not only instinct, but a sacred 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 153 

moral obligation also ; and whoever proves recreant to this sacred duty, 
is far inferior to any of the brute creation. It is God's desire that man 
and woman shall enter upon conjugal love to procreate their kind; for 
he is desirous that the divine principle in man shall improve from age 
to age, until it shall arrive at its destined end of perfection. Thus it is, 
that he has implanted in man and woman those divine instincts and 
moral obligations, to induce them to take care of their offspring, and 
he rewards them in part for their toils by giving them ineffable plea- 
sure in performing their tasks. What man is there, who has a spark 
of true manhood within him, will not shield with his body and defend 
with his arm the wife of his bosom, who is the partner of his love, and 
the child, which is the fruit of this love? There is not one worthy of 
the name of man, who will not. He will toil by night and day also, 
to procure for them all the necessaries of food, raiment and shelter. 
He will even go so far as to deprive himself of what is necessary for 
himself, rather than see them suffer. He will run hither and thither to 
serve them in times of sickness, smooth their pillows for their aching 
heads, and speak soft, soothing words into their ears ; and do all other 
things, though ever so humiliating, for their welfare. Such a man is 
worthy of a loving wife and good children. Such a man feels his spirit 
chastened, ennobled and exalted in thus performing his duties ; at the 
same time he qualifies himself for an inheritance hereafter, where all 
the objects of his earthly love will again surround him in the heavenly 
world. My friends, be you then loving, kind and self-sacrificing one 
to another in your families — for such will meet the approbation of your 
Heavenly Father. 

" Thirdly. — There are duties and obligations that are due to other 
persons in our family relations, which call into play the noble feelings 
and sentiments, — all of which improve and refine our natures. To 
your parents you ought to be obedient, if you are under the years of 
manhood, and deferential and respectful even after you are your own 
masters; taking care of them in their old age, and soothing them under 
all the vexations of life, and leading them with as much gentleness as 
possible as they go down to the grave. And then, there are, perhaps 
brothers and sisters who require your tender solicitude, love and 
assistance: to them you ought to administer all the tender and useful 
offices that are in your power, — being kind and affectionate, slow and 
mild of reproof; and acting w T ith them in all things for the familiy's 
welfare. Many of you may have a little sister or brother, whose parente 
have gone down to the grave. To whom should they look to supply the 
place of their parents but their elder brother, — it is your duty to fulfil 
that office; therefore watch them, love them, and attend them with the 
care and affection of which you are capable. And when your younger 
brother shall need counsel or assistance, give it to him freely, with all 
thy experience, wisdom and disinterested affection; for he that does not 
treat his brother in this wise, is not worthy of the name and respect of 
a brother. To all your other kin, be you gentle, amiable and respectful ; 
by so doing, you will establish harmony in your family, and gain the 
respect of good men. 

" Fourthly.— My friends, are your duties to yourselves, which will 



154 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

embrace several points. The duties to your bodies I have already- 
spoken on ; the next is your duty to your understanding or mind, — 
which is one of the most important, dependent upon your care. It will 
become you to gain an intelligence of all things pertaining to your 
intended calling and circumstances in life, that you may prove capable 
of undertaking all necessary matters of common occupations, acquaint- 
ing yourselves with some of the beauties of Nature's phenomena. By 
thus acting, you will enlarge your minds, gain your own self-esteem, 
and the admiration of all good and wise men. Your next care will be 
to guard your reputation from the foul stings of slanderers and all evil 
workers, who shall endeavour to injure your just fame. If your honor, 
honesty and manhood are abused, call forth the slanderer end argue 
the case before your neighbours, and if he be proved a liar and evil 
worker, take all just means to punish him ; for the slanderer ought not 
to go unpunished — make him an example for others to dread. Your 
next duties to yourselves will be to care after your worldly interests, — 
for, though it is not good for a man to be greedy after wealth, yet it is 
necessary for every one to seek after the honest means of support. 
Secure to yourselves some honest occupation as a means of gaining 
your daily dependence for bread, then pursue it with perseverance and 
be prudent in your expenditures, that your out-goings be not greater 
than your in-comings ; and if possible, save a little against times of 
sickness or accidental misfortune. Thus you will render yourselves 
independent of others, and avoid many evils that others encounter. A 
sensible and generous man may thus act without becoming a miser, an 
usurer, or a greedy-hearted man of riches. 

" Fifthly. — Are our duties to our neighbours. All men as neigh- 
bours, ought to be treated on social grounds, with perfect equality of 
rights. Whatever we expect they shall concede to us, we ought to be 
ready to concede to them; for, as in the social compact, there is a 
mutual interest to support, — so ought all our bearings and treatment 
to each other be mutual. Mutual rights, mutual respect, mutual affa- 
bility and politeness, when perfectly understood and conformed to, will 
form a harmonious society. But there are instances that occur among 
neighbours, which come not under the mutual transfer of obligations, 
but which appeal to our sympathy, our sense of justice and charitable 
feelings. Such for instance: — If our neighbour is sick or poor, and 
needs assistance, he may have no right to demand a share of our wealth ; 
yet it is our moral duty to sympathize with him, and relieve him to the 
best of our abilities. If he meet with an unforseen accident, such as 
his house being burnt, he cannot by force or right compel us to restore 
him another house ; but it will be well for our names and add greatly to 
our characters of benevolence, if we endeavour to restore his loss. 
There are many other ways by which a man can do good to his neigh- 
bours, and the best criterion by which he should judge how to do so, is 
to take the Golden Rale, — ' Do unto others as you would they should 
do unto you.' 

" Sixthly. — Our duties to our Government: they are conditional, and 
very simple in their nature. If the Government be a just one — which 
is, founded on rational and just principles of mutual protection of the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. loo 

people their rights, privileges, lives and property, and in which the 
people'have a voice in the selection of their rulers-then it becomes our 
imperative duty to implicitly obey all its laws, and respect its rulers; 
and should an enemy invade the country, then it will be the duty of 
everv man, when called upon, to go forth to repel the foe. But on the 
other hand, should the Government be one of tyranny, and the laws 
and rulers be oppressive and unjust, no man is morally bound to obey 
the one or the other; but he may do so to save himself. If he betray 
such a Government, he is no traitor; or if he fight against it, he is no 
enemy to his country, but a patriot who wishes to abolish a bad Gov- 
ernment, with the view and hopes of establishing a just one in its stead. 
" Seventhly. —Are our duties to mankind at large. All nations of 
people are the children of our Heavenly Father, wherever found or 
under what circumstances. Though there is some difference in their 
natures and appearances, no doubt, God created them with the same 
motives as he did us. They are born upon the same earth,-the same 
sun shines upon them by day, and the same moon by night; therefore 
thev have an equal right to live and enjoy this life that we have. Like 
us "they are susceptible of pain and pleasure,-like us, they have the 
same motives and interests in life ; and though their colors are different, 
and their habits, customs, language and ideas also, yet they are our 
brethren- thev are entitled to the same sympathies, the same love and 
assistance we have one for the other. Therefore let there be no party 
or local distinction in our love for a class or nation of men, here or there. 
Let there be no local hatreds, prejudices or antipathies. Make an al- 
lowance for the difference of customs, fhabits and prejudices; and keep 
this ever memorable maxim in your minds, that the whole world is your 
country, and all mankind your Brethren. 

" Eighthlv —Our duties to our enemies : they are but few, yet we have 
some to perform even to them. When a difference or dispute shall 
arise among nations, our first duty is to keep cool-to prevent our 
nature from being aroused to a state of anger or irritability; tor if we 
allow an-er to overcome us, it will prevent our seeing the difference m 
a lust light. Our next dutv will be to invite our enemies to an argu- 
ment on the points of dispute, and then, with prudence, circumspection 
and just principles, investigate the matter. If we find our party to be 
wrong then concede so much in their favour; and if we find that they 
(the enemies) are in the wrong, we will draw a line, and say "Thus far 
will we go and no farther: we will not war with you, but wo will stand 
to our point. If you attack us, we will resist and defend ourselves, and 
the blood of the battle will be upon your heads.' If war become in- 
evitable, then we can fight with a good heart in a good cause. It we 
conquer we ought not to demand anything more than the fulfilment ot 
the principles for which we contended before the battle. When treaties 
are made between us, we ought to adhere to them with inviolable truth 
and justice; our enemies will then learn to respect us on all tuture 

occasions. 

"Ninthly -Are our obligations to conform to oar passionate na- 
ture's. My brethren, many have told you to suppress or extinguish 
certain passions or principles within your nature. My doctrine is, that 



156 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

you do nothing of the kind, for God never made man with any passions 
or principles useless or destructive to him. Every passion, principle, 
or function has its specific duty to perform — all tending to the pre- 
servation and happiness of the individual ; but it requires the exercise 
of prudence and patience to regulate them, that they shall not injure 
ourselves, or be detrimental to others. Therefore, my friends, neither 
accelerate nor suppress any of your natural passions or emotions, — 
your nature knows how and when to display them, and when to arrest 
them. When a man is excited with pleasing emotions or ludicrous 
ideas, he laughs — then let him laugh, it will do him good ; for if you 
endeavour to suppress his laughter he will laugh the more, or it will 
kill him. When a man is hurt in body or mind, he may shed tears ; 
then let him weep, for his tears will ease his pain, — or, if he is excited 
to tears of sympathy at the distress of another, let them not be sup- 
pressed, for they will move him to good offices of charity and benevo- 
lence towards the distressed one. A tear of sympathy outshines the 
brightest of diamonds; its sparkling lustre will penetrate through 
space, extending to the realms of heaven, where God will see it and 
feel pleased with the donor. If your brother or neighbour offend you 
and you become excited to anger, give vent to your anger; but first 
turn aside and take two stones, then beat one upon the other until your 
anger be subdued. It will be better for you to beat the stones to powder, 
than to smite your brother upon the cheek : but you must not suppress 
your anger, for it will generate hatred and the desire for revenge. If 
the developement of your nature is such that the conjugal passion is 
dominant, then, with prudence and circumsjjection, seek for yourselves 
partners in your love, and give vent in a chaste and proper manner to 
your natural desires ; but seek not to suppress them by celibacy, for it 
is an error entailing a thousand horrors. In all respects, my friends, 
suppress not your natural passions or emotions, but so endeavour to 
regulate them that they shall not produce to you or others, any evil 
results. 

"Tenthly, and last. — Is our acknowledgement and love for our 
Heavenly Father. When we investigate our own mortal bodies, we 
cannot help seeing how beautiful and wonderful they are made, and 
we cannot help inferring the wisdom and power of the maker. We 
know, therefore, that there is a supreme wise power in the universe 
above all other things ; and when we understand that this body of ours 
is only the representative of the spirit within, how much more beautiful 
and wisely constructed must that spirit be. We, therefore, infer that 
this Great Power has some great design in bringing us into existence — 
and though we know not what that design is precisely, yet we have 
reason to believe that it is a good one. We, therefore, hail this Great 
Power as our Heavenly Father, and call him God — the True God of the 
Universe. The wisdom and magnificence of his works, as displayed all 
around us, we cannot help admiring; and as we are enabled to perceive 
they all tend to something good, we have reason to believe that he is 
a God of Love. It therefore becomes our duty, as rational beings, when 
in contemplation or speaking of that God, that all our aspirations of 
Bentiment and feelings shall be of a pure devoted love." 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 157 

Jesus paused for a few moments, and then concluded his address with 
the following remarks : — 

"Our ancestor, Moses, presented to his brethren a Decalogue or ten 
commandments, which he told them he had received from the God 
Jehovah at Mount Sinai, for the government of the people. He was 
the first to break those commandments — for he dashed them to the 
ground, and slew three thousand of the people before he had made them 
acquainted with the nature of them. I, also, present you with a Deca- 
logue, not coming from Moses or the God Jehovah ; but mine is founded 
upon the principles of truth and wisdom, in conformity with the princi- 
ples of nature. You will compare them, and decide for yourselves 
which is the best and most capable of adding to man's happiness." 

Jesus, having concluded his address, stood aside ; when Peter, whose 
former name was Simon, the fisher- of-men, advanced in front of the 
people and announced, in a loud voice, " That as the address of Jesus 
was terminated, the people could refresh themselves for an hour; when, 
if there were any sick among them, if they would come forward, Jesus 
would exert himself to relieve them by the laying on of his hands." 

This announcement was hailed with a great shout of joy by the people, 
then a general commotion ensued ; some running hither and thither to 
the woods and copses — but the greater part seated themselves upon the 
ground where they were, and immediately unpacked their smalf 
paniers of provisions, for a repast. 

At length, about an hour had passed in recruiting their outward man ; 
the paniers and skin-bottles were emptied, and the fragments strewed 
around ; every one was filled, for those who brought nothing received 
from those who had more than enough. 

The time was agreeably passed by the multitude in eating, drinking 
and discoursing upon the recent address. In the meantime, Jesus and 
his followers partook of refreshments, in a retired spot upon the slope of 
the mount. 

At length, it was announced that the sick persons were to be brought 
forward to the base of the rock ; then there was a general commotion, a 
rushing and crowding towards the place mentioned, and for some time 
a good deal of confusion, but in course of time all was reduced to order. 
An open space was maintained by the people, around the base of the 
rock, into which several sick persons were admitted and placed in a 
row, while the multitude stood around on the plain and on the slope 
above, awaiting with the most intense curiosity, the forthcoming pro- 
ceedings. 

There were about twenty sick persons in the allotted space, when 
Jesus entered it, followed by Peter, Andrew, John and James, and with 
a serene benevolent expression of countenance, he stood before the 
applicants for his mysterious favours. He beckoned for one to approach, 
who did so, when he inquired of him the nature of his complaint. It 
was a severe head-ache, without intermission. Then, Jesus placed his 
hands upon the crown of his head and gently moved them down the 
sides of his face, shoulders, body and legs ; this he repeated three times, 
when the man, with a sudden exclamation of joy, declared the pain was 
gone; he went away rejoicing. Another person was cured instan- 



158 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

taneously of a severe tooth-ache, by similar means; he went away 
expressing his gratitude and joy. Some patients were afflicted with 
rheumatic affections, part of whom were instantly cured and others 
relieved. Some had running sores on their legs or back of their necks, 
with whom Jesus took a longer time in the process than with the pro- 
ceeding; at length he discharged them, with the injunction to bathe 
seven times in the lake, when they would be cured ; they departed in 
great confidence. The remaining cases were disposed of in a similar 
manner ; some being instantly cured — some relieved, and others were 
to have the process repeated before a cure could be effected. 

At length Judas made his appearance, thrusting his way through the 
crowd of people into the open space, followed by a most miserable and 
unfortunate looking man — or, it seemed more like some monstrous 
quadruped than a man, yet it was in verity one of the latter ; he was 
walking on his hands and feet, with the aid of two blocks of wood in the 
former, with his head near to the ground and his back bent in form of 
an arch ; his clothes were in tatters and his head covered with rags ; his 
countenance dark, disfigured and distressing to behold, with a short 
ragged beard. As he approached Jesus, crawling along with his arms 
and blocks of wood, as substitute for legs, tears gushed from his eyes 
and he cried, " O Master ! for the love of God, do something for me, for 
I believe thou canst." 

Jesus was startled at the sight of this miserable creature, and he 
looked up to Judas inquiringly. 

"Master," said Judas, quite seriously, "this poor creature has come 
a great distance to see thee, to obtain the benefit of thy powers ; his 
friends have brought him hither in all hope." 

"But, Judas!" replied Jesus, in a tone of expostulation, seeming to 
be somewhat distressed as he spoke, "I am afraid that my power will 
not extend so far as to enable me to relieve that poor man." 

"Master, thou knowest not the extent of thy power, neither do I," 
replied Judas, persuasively, "yet it may be greater than we think. 
Let us hope in this case, that God will extend his power to thee, for the 
benefit of this poor man. Try, dear Master." 

"Well, Judas, as thou sayest, I can but try," responded Jesus. 

He then approached the deformed creature, placed his hands upon the 
back of his neck and along the spine to the pelvic region, where he let 
them rest a few moments ; this he repeated three times, when Judas 
gave the deformed a wink, who immediately stood erect and with a 
sudden spring bounded several feet high into the air; then descending 
he repeated the same several times, shouting aloud with joy. After 
leaping up and down, slapping his hands and performing many comical 
actions demonstrative of his astonishment and excited feelings, the 
cured cripple threw himself at the feet of Jesus and kissed them. The 
multitude were thrown into the most astounding astonishment: Jesus 
and his followers were also greatly suprised at the miraculous cure ; 
but the former attributing the miracle to the interposition of his Heaven- 
ly Father, took no merit to himself. He then placed his hand upon the 
man's head, blessed him, and told him to depart to his friends, rejoicing 
that God should have been so good to him. The man rose to his feet 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 159 

and re-commenced his joyous frantic actions — giving no one an oppor- 
tunity to question him, as many of his supposed friends wished to do. 

At length, Judas taking him by the arm, led him forth through the 
crowd, and with hasty steps they made their way to a body of woods 
at some distance from the multitude, where there was a horse tethered. 
Then, perceiving that no one was near, they both burst into a loud 
laugh which continued for some minutes before either could speak. 

"O, Cosbi! Cosbi!" exclaimed Judas, as soon as he could compose 
himself: "Thou hast nearly killed me. Had the farce been carried 
out five minutes longer, I should have died with suppressed laughter ; " 
— then Judas burst into another fit of laughing. 

"O! God of Moses!" exclaimed Cosbi, with great efforts to restrain 
his cachinnatory excitement; "What fun! Now the simple multitude 
will have enough to excite them for a month, and call into play their 
faculties of wonder." 

"Thou hast performed thy part well, Cosbi," said Judas; "but thou 
must now hasten away and get rid of this disguise, and then follow me 
in my track — for I shall have more use for thee." 

The two conspirators then took leave of each other — Cosbi mounting 
his horse, rode off, when Judas returned to Jesus and his followers. 
The multitude was dispersed and went to their homes, wondering upon 
all they had seen. 



VISION THIRTEENTH. 

The glittering waters of Genesareth; the small fertile plain decked 
with lively villages ; the long line of the Judean mountains, Tabor , 
and the Square-top Hill, with the long dark range of the Ammonite 
Ridge, — all pass away from the mental gaze, leaving naught but a 
featureless mist behind. — But soon the Spirits renew their labors, 
ivhen the mist gradually disappears, and various Mendings of light 
and shade soon form into outlines of things comprehensible ; which 
at length present another scene. 

Saul was in his chamber — that one as before described. All around 
was dark and gloomy without; but within, several lamps burning 
perfumed oil gave cheerfulness to his abode by the bright light and 
pleasant odor emitted. He held in his hand a small scroll, which 
seemed to be a letter that he had just been reading, and was then 
reflecting upon its contents as he paced to and fro. The general ex- 
pression of his countenance was one of pleasure: bright flashes of 
thought suddenly illumined his eyes, and various movements of his 
lips indicated the various thoughts and emotions as they passed through 
him. 

"He is a bright and ingenious knave, that Judas," he said to himself 
and then a cold smile curled his lips. "He has been more successful 
than I anticipated, and writes of his future prospects in a glowing 



160 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

strain. Bright Judas! cunning Judas! — thou deservest thy promised 
boon ; but it will not do to reward thee until thy work is done, and 

then ah! who knows what will be thy reward, or mine either? — for 

the result of this conspiracy or treachery we are enacting cannot be 
foreseen. Where are my thoughts wandering to? Such must not be; 
I must have no touches of remorse or stings of conscience before my 
work is accomplished, at least — no, no ! As I have started the puppet 
into action, I must concentrate all my energies of mind, blunt all my 
finer feelings, and arouse all my ingenuity and skill to make every one 
of my tools jierform the parts assigned them, or perchance some mo- 
mentary weakness may foil the whole design and ruin me irretriev- 
ably." 

Saul paused for a moment, then striking himself upon his breast, he 
added: "Courage, Saul, courage! persevere, and thy ends shall be 
attained. The day shall come when thou shalt see the hoary heads of 
this distracted country bend low before thee; and posterity will see 
millions, now unborn, bend in reverence at the sound of thy name." 

Saul then went to his recess, from which he took a silver tankard 
containing wine, and a goblet, which he placed upon a small stand; 
then filling the cup with the beverage, he was about placing it to his 
lips, when he heard a knock at his chamber door. Starting at the un- 
expected summons, he replaced the cup as he exclaimed "Ah! who 
can it be at this unusual hour? — but I must see." He then opened the 
door cautiously, when Judas made his appearance. 

"Welcome, Judas!" said Saul, as he immediately shut the door and 
fastened it; "my skillful and trusty agent. No man's visage do I pre- 
fer to the sight of thine." 

"I really do begin to think there is something comely in my counte- 
nance, since the young and handsome Saul takes a pleasure in beholding 
it," responded Judas ironically, and then he gave a short sarcastic 
laugh. 

"Well, Judas," said Saul gaily, "thou art in time to join me in my 
last cup of wine, before I retire to rest. Come, take this, and I will get 
another for myself." 

Saul then went to the recess and got another cup, when returning, he 
filled it and added: " Come drink, and relate thy adventures." 

Judas drank his wine with a seeming critical taste — for having taken 
the cup from his lips he reflected for a moment, then replacing the cup 
to his lips, he drained the last drop and remarked: 

"This wine is good, but not of so fine a flavor as that made down by 
the Lake of Genesareth." 

"Never mind the wine," responded Saul impatiently, "tell me of thy 
adventures in that part of the world." 

"O, worthy Saul!" replied Judas, "there has been glorious doings 
in that neighbourhood, thanks to thy advising and my performing. 
There is a complete revolution among the Genesarians; things that 
were, are now almost upside down. Old Moses and the Holy Priest- 
hood are below the usual price ; fishing for rish among the fishermen is 
voted vulgar — for they have started a new vocation which is called 
fishing-fbr-men. The advent of the Messiah, performing miracles, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 161 

j cures, and casting out devils, with the wonderful doctrines of Jesus, 
I form the subject of talk through all that district. The fishermen have 
. thrown down their nets,— the publicans have forsaken their inns,— and 
e the laborers their fields and vineyards ; for they are running hither and 
, thither almost distracted, collecting in multitudes wherever the Great 
. Man, Jesus, will hold forth,— then spreading all over the country, re- 
: lating the wonderful things they have heard and seen, and every time 
. they are related they become more and more miraculous." 
g " Come, let us be seated," said Saul as he motioned Judas to the couch, 
. "then thou may est give me a more particular and connected account 
. of what has been done." 

They became seated— Saul having placed the wine on the stand before 
, them, so that they could help themselves at pleasure, when Judas 
, having taken another draught, began as follows : 

f . "Before I started on the expedition of adventures with my new 
, master, as I must call him," said Judas, as he cast a keen glance at 
Saul, "I made acquaintance with a young man of a lively, versatile 
[ nature, whose morals are not anywise objectionable to our views, and 
, who possessed certain talents which I thought would be of great assist- 
ance in accomplishing what I have undertaken. I engaged him to 
. follow me in our travels, but to keep at such a distance from me that 
, our connexion should not be suspected. He gladly accepted my offer, 
! when we all started at the time set. We travelled four days on foot, 
with as much haste as was convenient, through Judea and Galilee, 
I without allowing ourselves or our business to be known. At length, 
we arrived at the village of Nazareth, which is the native place of Jesus, 
but who had been absent from it about ten years." 

Judas then proceeded to relate all that took place at Nazareth, but as 
;hese matters are related elsewhere, it is not necessary to recapitulate. 
However, let it be known that when he spoke of the address of Jesus 
:o the Nazarenes, he gave a very favourable view of it. After stating 
aow they left Nazareth, he went on to say: 

"From Nazareth we went on to Bethsaida, where we received a more 
favourable reception, and where we organized our future proceedings. 
Prom the narrow escape Jesus had made from losing his life, he saw it 
would be necessary to have a body of followers to act as an escort of pro- 
tection to him, with which I agreed. We then proceeded to avail our- 
selves of such as could be obtained, whoever they might be, and in this 
little fishing place we obtained several. I will therefore acquaint thee 
with the adherents who formed the strength of our party. First, there 
ts young John of Galilee, who received intimation of Jesus from John 
:he Baptist. Thinking that he could make it to his advantage bo serve 
Jesus, he ran away from his father and joined the former in his retreat 
aear Jericho. Then there is John's brother, James; we picked him up 
it Nazareth, where he had come to seek after his brother John by his 
father's orders. These young men, with old Zebedee their father, are 
very ignorant and silly, far below the common understanding; yet 
they are grossly selfish, for they will believe any foolish tale told them 
wherein there is a prospect held out of becoming great worldly men. 
fl accordingly told them that Jesus would certainly become the King of 

u 



162 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

Judea, if not of the whole world, for he was the true Messiah promised ; 
and I held out to them that they should become Princes and Governors 
of provinces, and that their father should be made rich. They all be- 
lieved what I told them, so that they became followers. Young John 
knows how to read and write, but his brother does nol^-which makes 
him think that he is somewhat the superior of his brother. He may 
be right in that respect, but it has led him into a most egregious error— 
for he entertains the idea that he has a poetic and a prophetic faculty 
within him, which he endeavours to cultivate by scrawling the most 
absurd, silly and monstrous trash that any infatuated fool ever com- 
mitted to paper. The next is Simon, whom Jesus calls Peter. This 
man is a merry, good hearted fellow in a general way, possessing more 
intelligence than the rest of the fishermen. He is generous in a certain 
way, and would not stoop to do a mean, petty thing; however, I found 
out that his principles would not prevent him from doing anything on 
a large scale, for the sake of gain and power. T found, also, that I 
could not cajole him like I had the others, so I declared to him in true 
colors our designs and prospects with regard to Jesus. He understood 
me and consented to be one of us, provided his expenses were paid 
while travelling ; and after Jesus should have made many adherents 
among the people, and be put aside, that he (Peter,) should be assigned 
the head of a portion of his followers. I told him his interest should 
be attended to in that respect. He then became one of us." 

"Judas!" exclaimed Saul, with evident uneasiness expressed in his 
countenance and voice, "How didst thou know that such were my 
designs in this business? I never told thee such." 

"I know it, most worthy Saul," replied Judas as he glanced archly 
at his employer: "Thou hast told me thy designs in part, the rest I 
read in thee." 

"Proceed Judas," said Saul indifferently, "I know thou hast a keen 
perception." 

"Then the next, resumed Judas, "is that ignorant, awkward, selfish 
brute, Andrew, brother to Peter. The latter assured me that he would 
secure the co-operation of his brother by certain inducements he would 
hold out to him. He accordingly did so, and Andrew became one of 
the company, but he was not let into an understanding of the true 
state of things between me and his brother Peter. There were two 
more miserable, ignorant, sordid creatures that we induced to join us, 
with very small offers of gain. They were so poor and so humble in 
their expectations, that for the value of a dead dog's skin they wer*> 
willing to believe anything, say anything, and do anything mean. One 
was named Nathaniel, and the other, Philip. With this respectable 
and worthy escort, we thought we would proceed to business. Accord- 
ingly we— that is, I and Peter — sent them all around the neighbourhood 
for many miles to gather the people, telling them to say that Jesus 
would address them and heal the sick. At the time appointed, a 
multitude of people of about a thousand had assembled at the foot of 
the Square Hill with the two tops back of the plain of Genesareth, 
where Jesus gave another address, touching upon the barbarous history 
of our forefathers, and concluded by giving them some excellent rules 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 163 

of life. After the address, the people partook of refreshments they had 
brought with them, then Jesus proceeded to exert his mysterious power 
of healing the sick. Some he cured instantly, some he relieved, and 
some remained doubtful ; but the last act was one that established his 
'fame in spite of himself, as a worker of great miracles. I brought 
before Jesus the young man I spoke to thee about, Cosibi by name, who 
performed the part of a poor deformed man, bent almost double and 
walking on all fours like a beast. Jesus was doubtful whether he could 
"do anything for him, but I persuaded him to try. He accordingly did 
so, when Cosbi sprang into the air, performing all kinds of mad evo- 
lutions expressive of his joy. The people were struck with astonish- 
ment, and no longer doubted that Jesus was the true Messiah. They 
dispersed, wondering and spreading far and wide what they had seen 
and heard of Jesus ; but I and Peter, after leaving that spot, made great 
additions to his fame. We then crossed the mountains and passed over 
into Galilee; passing through many towns and villages, where Jesus 
gave addresses and performed some cures, and as we went along, I 
enlarged upon his wonderful powers of healing. I told them how the 
deaf, dumb, blind, lame and deformed were cured — making tales to 
suit all occasions, our followers repeating and adding thereto wherever 
we went. Peter undertook to relate how the multitude were fed at the 
expense of Jesus and his followers. He said, at first, that there were 
a thousand people, and five hundred loaves with two hundred fishes 
for supply. Then, the next place where he related it, he said there 
were three thousand people, one hundred loaves and fifty fishes. And 
at the next village he came to, he said there were five thousand people, 
. ten loaves and five small fishes, and fell were fed. Then at another 
" place, he stated that there were six thousand people, five loaves and 
two fishes. I now thought Peter had made the tale of feeding the 
people quite marvellous enough, so I said to him, * Peter, the next time 
thou relatest that tale, it will be well not to reduce the number of loaves 
, and fishes, for the people will begin to suspect that thou art telling then 
', one of thy big fish stories, and thou knowest they will not believe thee 
in that thing.' 'Well, Judas,' replied Peter with a wink and a short 
laugh, 'I think thou art right in that respect, but still I must do all I 
can to make my master's works as famous as possible: however, I will 
not reduce the number of loaves and fishes the next time I tell it, but 
T will try what can be done to make it appear still more wonderful/ 
So the next time Peter related the tale of the multitude being fed, he 
said that there were six thousand people, five loaves and two small 
fishes; and when they had all eaten enough, there were twelve baskets 
full left. 

"I must tell thee one more miraculous adventure, which took place 
without design or anticipation of the result, at least. We hail left 
i Galilee, and returned to the other side of the mountains by ( teneeareth 
Lake. One day, we concluded to make an excursion to a village (Hi 
the opposite shore by the name of Gadara, which was built in a deft 
of the mountains— the people of that part being Gentiles, who rat swine 
flesh. They were basely ignorant, — believing that when a man went 
crazy or mad, ademon had entered him; they therefore turned ban out 



164 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

of society to wander and die where he could. It now occurred to me 
to avail myself of Cosbi to further advance our cause. So I contrived 
that he should be upon the spot to personate a madman when we should 
make our appearance on the road to the village. All things being 
arranged, we crossed the lake and began ascending the mountain to- 
wards the village ; and as we advanced up the steep road we saw some 
of the villagers, who had come out to meet us, for they had heard of 
our coming ; we had got about half-way when we met them. At this 
part of the road on one side of us there were many caves in the side of 
the mountain, which were used as tombs ; and on the other side of us 
there was a descent to a hollow of a few feet deep, where a herd of swine 
were feeding upon the scanty herbage found there. Now, just as we 
met the people and began to pass the usual greetings, a monster looking 
man came out of one of the tombs or caves and rushed among the 
people, causing them to flee with terror. He stood before us in his 
tattered garment ; his face disfigured with hideous patches of dirt and 
paint; his hair tangled and matted, and his legs and arms bare. He 
held a large club, which he brandished before him in a menacing 
manner. He pointed at Jesus, making many grimaces and lolled out 
his tongue, and at length he said in a blustering voice : ' Get thee gone ; 
I know thee — I will kill thee — get thee gone, thou Jesus of Nazareth. 
Thou art sent of God to drive me out, but I will not go.' Jesus looked 
upon him with an expression of great commiseration, and a slight 
tremor seemed to come over him as he did so. ' Master,' I observed, as 
I caught the eye of Jesus, 'is there no possibility of this man's reason 
being restored ?' Jesus responded that he thought there was none. I 
then urged him to try his powef, as he was enabled to do good things 
when he did not expect them. I instanced the case of tht? deformed he 
had cured. He consented at length, to try if anything could be done. 
He caught the madman's eye, and stretched forth his hands as he 
uttered the words 'peace be to thee.' The madman, who was still 
making violent gesticulations and grimaces, at length fell upon his 
knees, seeming to be overcome by some invisible power, and then 
closing his eyes he remained for some time quite peaceable. Jesus 
then drew near him, and for some minutes waved his hands over and 
around him. Then the madman opened his eyes, looking around him 
with seeming strangeness; at length, jumping up, he said in a mild 
and reasonable manner: 'I feej better; my mind has come to me 
again, and thou art my benefactor,' then he humbly bowed before Jesus 
and burst into tears. ' Arise my poor man and depart, rejoicing that 
God has restored thee to thy right mind,' said Jesus encouragingly. 
The villagers by this time had descended the road again, and many of 
them had drawn near, as they no longer feared the madman, but were 
struck with awe and reverence for Jesus by the power he had seemingly 
displayed. The restored madman rose to his feet, when having made 
an obeisance to the people he began to caper and jump with joy; and 
as he neared the edge of the road he slipped and fell over into the hollow | 
among the herd of swine. The swine receiving so sudden and unex- 
pected a visitor with such a frightful mien and disordered dress, became 
seized with astonishment and fright; they accordingly scampered away 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 165 

is fast as they could. A great many jumped over the cliffs and were 
Idlled; while others found their way to the base of the mountains, 
rushing onward until they came to the lake, when many of them 
plunging in were drowned. All was confusion among the villagers; 
some ran after their swine, hut in vain. The madman was not to 
be found: he had hid himself in the ravine, and at night Cosbi— for 
it was he — managed to return to me in safety. We went forward to 
the village, but the people had become afraid of us, so they desired us 
to depart from their neighbourhood. We did so. A few days aftor- 
wards the fame of Jesus was spread around the country — how he had 
made a wonderful cure of a man possessed of a demon, which had 
entered the swine after being driven out of the man. Many alterations 
and exaggerations were added to this at different times, by different 
persons relating it, but it was firmly believed by all who knew no 
better." 

"It was an interesting adventure, and will answer well for our end 
in view," observed Saul. 

"After the adventure at Gadara," resumed Judas, "we returned to 
Bethsaida and stayed at Peter's house. Afterwards, we sojourned at 
Capernaum some days, where nothing of importance occurred, except 
that we took two more followers. One of them was named Matthew, 
' who possessed the rare talent of knowing how to read and write ; a 
most conceited fellow, — always with book and reeds in hand taking 
notes,— a great babbler of absurd stories and monstrous fictions. He 
not having anything better to do, agreed to accompany us and be the 
writer of our party. I do not doubt, if he should be alive when Jesus 
3 is dead, that he will make out a most astonishing and wonderful history 
of him. The other adherent we took into our company was one Thomas, 
a disagreeable atheist, who believes in nothing that does not contribute 
to his own selfish and vicious principles — yet he will profess to believe 
anything, if he is paid for it in money or wine. 

"As the feast of the passover was soon to commence, Jesus, with his 
honorable and talented company of followers — not forgetting to include 
my own honorable self— concluded to start for Jerusalem. We passed 
along by the lake of Genesareth and down the river Jordan, and then 
came in by the road to Jericho. So here we are, ready for new adven- 
tures. But there is one thing more that I must acquaint thee with, 
worthy Saul. On my return to this city, I came across a man, who 
told me that John the Baptist is in prison — sent there by Herod Antipas, 
Tetrach of Galilee. John had given offence by using his tongue too 
freely concerning Herod's family affairs. This man informed me also 
that John is coming to his right reason — that he begins to perceive that 
he has acted the fool in considering and treating Jesus as the Messiah. 
He wishes to see Jesus once more ; for he says if Jesus is the True 
Messiah, he can deliver him from prison, and if he cannot do that, he 
(John,) will be convinced that Jesus is not what he thought hi in to be. 
Now, Saul, thou mayest perceive if this John gets out of prison and 
tells the people he has been mistaken about Jesus, he will undo, in 
part, our good work." 

"In that case," responded Saul, "it will not do to let him come out 



166 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

of his prison. I will think what is to be done in the matter. My dear 
Judas, I have to express my approbation of thy proceedings. I wish 
thee to continue in the same course until I give thee further orders. 
To-morrow I shall have an interview with the High Priest, perhaps 
after that, I shall have further orders for thee. Now let us take a 
parting cup of wine and terminate our conference till to-morrow.' ' 
Then Saul and his agent acted accordingly. 



VISION FOURTEENTH. 

Again, the Spirits withdraw my souVs consciousness from the external 
world and usher me into the theatre of the mind; where, before my 
solitary gaze, is presented a magnificent scene, with many per- 
sonages, their speech, thoughts and feelings being impressed upon 
me, as I behold the vision. 

The noon-day sun was reflected from the white marble structure of 
the Holy Temple, dedicated to the Great Jehovah, which is said to be, 
literally, 'The House of the Lord.' From a distant view, it seemed to be 
a mountain of snow, so exquisite was the whiteness of the polished rock, 
but on a nearer view the spectator could scarcely support the brightness 
of its splendour, on account of the dazzling light reflected from the 
silver and golden plates with which it was adorned. The roofs and 
other parts were of cedar wood, beautifully engraved, and the gates 
were of immense magnitude, richly wrought, and ornamented with gold 
and silver. In the eastern front of this temple is a lofty doorway, rising 
over a hundred feet in height, the sides and posts of which being covered 
with plates of gold, ornamented with figures in relief. This doorway 
leads into the chamber or sanctum of the Holy of Holies, where is 
placed the Ark, guarded by two golden cherubims. Around the four 
sides of the Temple is a tessalated paved court, surrounded by a portico 
with lofty pillars of white marble, — which is named the Court of the 
Priests, in which is placed the altar. The latter is a massive structure 
over a hundred feet long and the same in height, covered with plates of 
gold. In this court, also, is the great brazen basin, supported on the 
backs of oxen, which is large enough, when full of water, for a ship to 
sail in. This court opens into another, exteriorly, which is separated by 
a wall a few feet high, paved in the same manner as the other, and sur- 
rounded on its four sides with taller pillars than the preceeding one, 
which is named the Court of the People, none but Jews being admitted 
therein. Nine gates give exit to another court exteriorly, the eastern 
and centre one being of surpassing magnificence, which is called the 
Beautiful Gate. This gate is ninety feet in height by seventy in width, 
the door being of massive Corinthian brass, covered on both sides with 
golden plates, sometimes plain, sometimes fretted work, or raised 
figures in low and high relief; on either side of the doorway is a tower, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 167 

seventy-three feet high, adorned with columns twenty feet in circum- 
ference. Altogether, this handsome porch surpasses anything of the 
kind of the works of man. 

Then, by a descent of seventeen steps, these gates give exit to another 
court, and the last exteriorly, called the Gentiles Court, which is paved 
the same as the others. On the exterior edge of this court there is a 
descent of a few steps, which is bounded by another line of cloisters 
around the four sides — the southern side having four rows of columns 
with fluted shafts and ornamented leaves ; this part of the cloister is 
called Solomon's Porch. On the exterior of this, a wide colonade passes 
around the four sides, consisting of chambers with columns forty-seven 
feet high, and at each corner, towers with turrets and pinnacles, to 
gaze down which would make the head dizzy, from the extreme height. 
This colonade extends to the margin of the wall on the east, which 
descends down to the bottom of the valley of Jehosaphat, a distance of 
seven hundred and thirty feet, formed of massive blocks of rock as large 
as ordinary houses. 

Such was the stupendous structure of the Temple, from an external 
view, being from the bottom of the valley to the top-most pinnacle, a 
height of nine hundred feet, seeming to be one massive mountain, 
sculptured into a fantastic form. 

In this stupendous structure, which took many ages in construction, 
all the wisdom, all the wealth, and nearly all the energies of the Jewish 
people were expended. And what were the powers by which it was 
achieved? An ignorant people; a vile Priesthood ; a gloomy supersti- 
tion, and a line of tyrannical kings. Such is the Temple of the Great 
Jehovah, who says, " He dwelleth not in temples built with hands." 

The Holy City was crowded to repletion, with people from all parts 
of Judea, and from many foreign countries, independent of its ordinary 
number of inhabitants, for the great feast of the Passover was about 
to be celebrated, with all the pomp and gorgeous ceremony, reverence, 
superstition and folly that ever was expended upon the occasion. All 
the streets were crowded with multitudes of people, making it difficult 
to pass to and fro. All the vacant lots and suburbs were filled with 
lightly constructed booths, for the accommodation of the country people, 
who were formed into companies of tens or upwards, designing to feast 
together on the paschal lamb. Every public inn was filled with 
strangers— every dwelling house was filled with visitors from distant 
parts, who sojourned with their friends on the occasion. The porches 
of the colonades; the porticos, and the two outer courts, were filled with 
people moving to and fro. Some in groups, discoursing of the news 
from distant parts; others were dealing, trading and speculating on 
matters of worldly interests, as great numbers of stalls and shops were 
allowed for business people of every sort. 

The pavements of the two courts were nearly covered with devotees, 
kneeling or prostrate, with their faces turned towards the temple — 
spreading broad their phylacteries — performing their ceremonial evolu- 
tions, and repeating their usual prayers for the occasion, having per- 
formed which, and left the spot, others would fill up the place and go 
through the same. 



168 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

The Court of the Priests which surrounds the Temple, presented a 
strange assemblage of living beings and incongruous religious cere- 
monies in performance, in and around the "House of God." 

Close to and around the Temple, were great numbers of the tribe of 
Levi, in flowing robes and gorgeous tires, acting as musicians and 
singers. The first, with long brass trumpets, stringed instruments and 
horns, flutes, cymbals and drums, making the courts resound with 
terrific inharmonious sounds ; then another party, chanting or singing 
psalms of debasing humility, gross adulation and praise, fit only for the 
ears of an absolute king. 

On the southern verge of the court was the vast structure called the altar 
of burnt sacrifice, from the top of which an inplined plane descended at 
each end, and at a small distance from either end were numerous cattle 
pens, filled with lambs and sheep, which mingle their noise with the 
terrific blasts of the trumpets and the chanting of the priests — altogether 
forming a horrid din. Then, a great number of uncouth looking beings, 
with bare heads, arms and legs, forming a part of the Holy Priesthood, 
smeared and bespotted with blood, seize the poor beasts; slaughter 
them ; divest them of their skins ; carry them to the top of the altar, 
where there is a large fire burning, and there roast them. 

On the top of the altar were several men in scanty garb, reeking 
with perspiration, the fumes of wine and other bad odors ; more re- 
sembling demons than holy men, with long metal instruments poking 
the fire and turning the carcasses until they should be religiously done. 
Then vast clouds of greasy smoke, mingled with incense, arose abovo 
the altar, curling and ascending up to the skies to regaie the nostrils of 
the Great Jewish God, Jehovah. Great numbers of men carried wood 
to the top of the altar, and then descended on the other side with the 
burnt offerings, which were distributed among the various owners 
after abstracting the Lord's share, which was about one-third of the 
best parts. 

Thus the noise of hundreds of noisy instruments, — the voices of 
singers, chanters, and bleating of sheep and lambs, — the crackling of 
burning wood— the hissing, spluttering phizzing of roast flesh altogether 
made a mingled din agreeable to the God of the Jews, highly expressive 
of Jewish piety and religious adoration. But now a sudden blast of 
trumpets is heard. What is it? It announces that the High Priest is 
about to visit the Holy Temple. The holy cortege proceeds from the 
palace of the Sanhedrim, at the south-east corner of the Court of Israel, 
from which a numerous train is slowly wending its way. Foremost is 
a detachment of guards headed by some officials, who prepared the 
way through the dense crowd for the advance of the Holy Priesthood. 
Then comes a body of the Chief Priests of the tribe of Levi, headed by 
the Nasi, or president of the Sanhedrim ; who are dressed in blue 
vestments and white ephods, with broad girdles round their waists of 
many colors, and white linen tires around their heads. Their long 
flowing beards and grave deportment bespoke them to be what they 
were not — most holy men. 

Next in the train is the great High Priest, who treads the ground with 
a grave dignity. His vestment is white, reaching to his feet and fringed 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 169 

all around; from which are suspended golden bells, alternating with 
figures of pomegranates. His girdle is formed of five cinctures em- 
broidered in flowers of gold. Over all, an ephod of blue of correspond- 
ing materials, fastened by two clasps below the throat, resembling two 
shields of gold; in -which were set two precious stones, bearing tho 
names of those from whom the tribes descended. His head was covered 
with a mitre of fine linen, wreathed in blue ; in the front of which was 
a plate of gold, whereon were embossed the sacred letters, which say 
4 Holy to the Lord.'' Then followed the Chief Scribes, headed by tho 
Abbithdin, or vice president of the Sanhedrim ; who were dressed in 
long black vestments with blue girdles, and plain white linen tires in 
form of cones : these were followed by another detachment of guards 
who brought up in the rear. 

As the cortege passed through the courts, the people either prostrated 
themselves, or bowed down till their fingers touched the ground. All 
noise and commotion ceased for a time, but as ii: approached the temple 
the verry turrets were shook to their foundation by the terrific blasts 
given from the trumpets, which was followed by singing and chanting, 
accompanied with milder instruments. At length the High Priest stood 
before the door-way of the Holy Temple, when the vocal and instru- 
mental music ceased ; then all present, excepting the former, fell pros- 
trate upon the ground. Then the High Priest, placing his hands upon 
his breast, passed in at the door- way and entered the vestibule alone. 
Raising the sacred veil, he passed into the Sanctuary. Looking at the 
twelve barley loaves which awaited the Lord, ready to be eaten, and 
glancing indifferently at the golden lamps which were continually 
burning, he passed into the chamber called the "Holy of Holies." In 
this holy precinct there was nothing except the holy ark ; not even day 
light was permitted to enter — for the Great Jehovah was supposed to be 
favourable to darkness. The High Priest being under the necessity of 
staying in this dark chamber for some time, in order that the people 
might believe that he was having a communication with the Lord 
Jehovah, felt inclined to rest himself; but as there was no furniture in 
the room excepting the holy ark, he cooly sat down upon it between the 
two cherubims, and having heaved a sigh he said to himself: "O Israel! 
Israel! what a despicable humbug is thy religion! 11 When the High 
Priest thought that his stay in the holy chamber was sufficiently long, 
he rose from the ark and with solemn steps retraced his way to the 
front of the temple ; where, as soon as he made his appearance, he was 
greeted with a simultaneous burst of music from the musicians and 
singers — then, the cortege being formed, he returned to the palace of 
the Sanhedrim as he had come. 

It was now about the first hour past the noon of day. Great crowds 
of people, both Jews and Gentiles, had collected in tho south sido 
cloister of the Gentile Court, called Solomon's Porch — that magnificent 
production of art! There, four rows of marble pillars eighteen feel in 
circumference, with fluted columns and ornamented capitals— the two 
centre rows supporting a groined roof one hundred feet highland the 
two external rows forming aisles fifty feet high. This pari of the 
temple was frequented principally by people of business, and as a 



170 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

locality where friends from different parts of the world could meet each 
other and discourse upon worldly affairs ; and at various times lecturers 
on various subjects would gather crowds to whom they could hold forth. 
Around the bases of the columns there were many stalls where small 
articles oi every kind could be purchased, and some money changers 
were allowed to accommodate the people, by taking a per centage out 
of every piece of money they exchanged. 

In the central part of this porch there was a great crowd of the people 
collected, who seemed to be much excited, making exclamations of 
wonderment and curiosity, as they pointed to a handsome man standing 
on a platform in the midst of them. "It is he," said one. "Yes, it is 
the miracle worker," said another. "The enemy of the Priesthood, 
and the reformer of the Temple," said another. "The preacher of 
strange doctrines," said another. " He is going to speak ! " said another 
—and then a great many voices cried out " silence ! " 

Jesus was elevated about three feet above the crowd, with his fol- 
lowers around him. His head was bared — his beautiful countenance 
being exposed in full view of the people, and as his serene intelligent 
eyes glanced around upon them, they could not help feeling an admira- 
tion and prepossession in his favour. As soon as he*found the people 
attentive, he gently raised his eyes for a few moments as though in- 
voking the aid of the Deity, and then he proceeded to address them in 
a voice distinct, low and impressive. 

"Friends, Countrymen and Brethren: I am sensible the address I 
am about to deliver to you is one of great hazard and difficulty ; for 
there are two opposing powers of great magnitude which I shall have 
to contend with. But, my friends, as I am impelled by my love to- 
wards you as a brother, by my duty to you as a citizen, and by the 
great obligation I am under to the True God of Nature to do all tho 
good I can in this world — by all these obligations, I say, I am willing 
to risk my own worldly interest and safety in order to declare my mind 
to you. One of the opposing powers that I shall have to contend with 
will be the authorities of certain institutions, which I shall be under 
the necessity to expose and attack ; the other opposing power will be in 
yourselves. I do not mean, my friends, that you will oppose me from 
any ill will or intention that you have at present, but it will be of this 
nature : As I proceed in my exposition of matters, my views will clash 
with some of your old established notions which you have been taught 
to consider good, or not to think about at all. For what has this vast 
multitude of people assembled in this city and temple to-day? To 
celebrate the feast of the Passover, you will say. What is the Passover? 
The exodus of our ancestors from slavery in the land of Egypt, under 
the guidance of Moses. So it is said, the Lord set apart this day to be 
celebrated every year with thanksgiving and joyousness. Now, my 
brethren, you believe all this to be true, and that the Lord is entitled to 
your thanks and lasting gratitude for the favour shown to our ancestors, 
and this institution of the Passover is the manner by which you wish 
to express your feelings to the Lord. Gratitude and thanks are divine 
traits in human nature— therefore it is good in you to be grateful to the 
Lord for any favour shown to our people. It is good of you to be 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 171 

thankful to a man if he do you a favour. It is good even to be thankftu 
to a dog if it has done you a service — but, my friends, notwithstanding 
all this, we ought to inquire whether the claims of our gratitude are 
well founded, and by investigation, be certain that we are not deluded 
into a false belief. You have been taught to believe that all these 
statements concerning God, Moses and our ancestors are true; you 
have not been allowed to doubt them— or if you have doubted them, 
you have not been allowed to express them. Therefore these established 
notions you have are your prejudiced; and if I, in the course of my 
discourse, shall endeavour to show you that these statements are not 
true, but false, your prejudices will take offence, and you, from mis- 
taken motives, will be apt to oppose me, though I am endeavouring to 
do you good by giving you enlightenment upon the matter. My dear 
brethren, let me advise you to lay your prejudices aside— give to me 
your minds as though you were little children, and follow me in a 
course of investigation of this matter ; then, I doubt not in a little time 
and with a little natural reasoning, you will be enabled to acquire so 
great an amount of truth that you will view it in quite another light. 

"In the first place, my friends, we must have some fixed ideas of this 
God Jehovah of whom Moses speaks, and then we will take that as a 
criterion to j udge all other matters by. What is this God represented 
to be in his principle attributes? What do you wish him to be? I think 
he is generally represented to be a being all-powerful, all- wise, ever 
present, and all-benevolent. If this character of your God will suit 
you, it will also suit me to argue from. I wish you, my brethren, to 
follow me in my investigations with your minds free from prejudice, 
and guided by simple natural reason, and you will then perceive that 
there is no truth in this history of the exodus of our ancestors from 
Egypt — I mean in the manner they left, or that the God Jehovah is not 
what he is represented to be. 

" In the first place, we understand our ancestors were in slavery in 
Egypt, and that the Lord Jehovah was desirous that they should be 
liberated, but Pharoah, it is said, would not let them go. Well, if the 
God of Moses were a wise God, he could have suggested means how to 
liberate them, and if he were powerful, he could have put his means 
into execution without entering into any contest with Pharoah. Here, 
then, we may perceive that the story is not true, or that the God of 
Moses is not what he is represented to be. In another place, the Lord 
tells Moses to demand of Pharoah to let the Children go. Moses does 
as he is bid, but Pharoah will not consent, for a good reason. The 
Lord hardens his heart, which will not allow him to yield. Here, then, 
w T e may perceive that the statement is not a fact, or, the Lord is in- 
consistent and cruel. The Lord is then represented to enter into a long 
contest with Pharoah to make him give up the Children; at the same 
time he hardens his heart and will not let him do so. The Lord brings 
plagues and diseases upon the Egyptians and their cattle, punishing 
the people as well as Pharoah for not doing what he will not allow 
them to do. Here we have a tale oi^ the greatest Inconsistency and 
absurdity that ever was related: either the tale is one of the gross 
lying, absurd productions, or the Lord Jehovah is an absurd, cruel, 



172 THB TRUE HISTORY OF 

imbecile monstrosity. After some silly contests between the Lord and 
Pharoah's conjurers and the Lord killing the first-born of the Egyptians, 
the Children of Israel force their way out and cross the Red Sea through 
a valley made by the waters. Now if the Lord could do such wonderful 
things as this, what is the reason he could not have taken the Children 
out without killing the first-born? Why did he not kill Pharoah 
instead? that would have settled the matter at once. And what oc- 
casion had he to take them through the Red Sea, when he could have 
taken them into the desert by going a little further to the north? The 
fact is, that is the way they must have gone into the desert. Thus, 
seeing the statement of the exodus to be a great tissue of lies up to this 
point, there can be no more reliance on any other part of it. You may 
then perceive, my friends, that the history of the exodus is not a 
reliable fact on which the feast of the Passover is founded, and the God 
Jehovah, if he had anything to do with that affair, is not worthy of our 
thanks, our gratitude, or our notice. I come to this inference concerning 
this God's actions before the exodus, and I can come to the same after 
the exodus. He is represented to have been inconsistent, cxuel and 
unjust to the Egyptians, and he is equally so to the Children of Israel 
after the exodus, as well as to all other nations that they had to do with. 
Bid he not say, according to history, that he had made choice of the 
Israelites as a favoured people? That he would give them a home — a 
land flowing with milk and honey? Did he not say that they should 
become as numerous as the sands on the sea shore, and become a great 
and powerful people ? How have his words been verified? In not one 
instance have these words been true, but quite the reverse. Instead of 
getting a home flowing with milk and honey, when they left Egypt 
they wandered in the deserts forty years, until all the people that had 
left Egypt in manhood were cut off by slaughter, famine, thirsts, 
plagues, scorpions, diseases and exhaustion,— even Moses his favourite, 
died before they got land to settle upon. And how did they get land 
at last? By their own individual barbarous strength — by robbery, 
bloodshed, treachery and the most ferocious cruelty in war. The 
Canaanites, with all their ferocious warfare and the aid of the Lord 
Jehovah, were never completely subdued, after many ages of bloody 
contest. Sometimes they exterminated the people in some parts, while 
in other parts they failed altogether and were made slaves. When they 
could not make any further conquests of their enemies, they turned 
their arms against one another, and a succession of bloody civil wars 
continued for many ages. At length they became a prey to every 
surrounding nation, becoming vassals or slaves to one or the other 
for the remaining period of their history. One monarch came down 
upon them and took away ten of their tribes into perpetual slavery — 
so that now instead of twelve tribes, we are but two. And what are 
the people now? Are we not vassals to the Romans? All these things 
that I have stated are facts. What then has become of the great pro- 
mises of your God Jehovah, when he said that he would make our people 
a mighty nation? Is it fulfilled? No, my brethren, it is not — but quite 
the reverse ; we are a miserable, weak and ignorant people, who never 
had a country to call our own. We never were a mighty, a just or an 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 173 

of our history coneernmg ^ «£«- are^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
concerning the God Jehovah c^ not tm but is nothi ng 

istence of such a God as Jenoyau ' » the ^ount 

more than the fanciful *nd lymg sprit of him ^ 
of the exodus; therefore the "^StSl^ our grltitude and ob- 
founded on true ^^2^^^ accounffor all these ab- 
servance. How to, my J^JJJ if will open your under- 

under tn. guld.ncn of ■. vd «^J <«£ « ^ ^ _ 

-"-^^^StartSrSa- nrteMbood oust wen.Mnul. 

T^Tw^he greasy smoke ht ascends from yonder altar this day. 
pleased with the gieasy smo several hundred thousand 

or the smell and fast e o f roas ^^more than a monstrous 
slaughtered amm f ^J™^ ™™ \ he %*, allotted to him from 

soodness would he desire or accept it from the needy mortals of eai th 

. SSstKtSB5S."JKtJS« 

f him there, for the whole affair is an imposition. 1 ha - < .. • «*» 
more pleasing to swine and bloodhounds, than to the Lord. Uh .,..*i 



174 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

meats are not sacrifices to God, but the perquisites of gluttonous priests, 
who daily gorge upon the fat of the land which the needy people ought 
to have. And this handsome porch where I now lift up my voice, 
instead of being a place devoted to disseminate learning to the people, 
has become a den, fit only for thieves and money gamblers." 

The address of Jesus was discontinued, as a great shouting arose 
among the people, and great confusion ensued. Some cried aloud "the" 
profanations of the temple ! — the traders ! — the money changers — down 
with the money changers ! " Then the crowd swayed to and fro and 
broke into several parts. A young man was seen disguised with a 
patch on his eye and a hump on his back, who nevertheless could be 
distinguished as Cosbi; who having a large club in his hand, was 
stimulating and exhorting several ill-looking men to follow him. 
"Come my men," he said, "let us clear the temple of these profaners, 
these traders and money changers." Then he rushed forth with many 
ruffians after him; when, coming to one of the money stalls, they 
upset the tables, beat the changers so that they fled — then there was a 
scramble for the money, which was soon gathered up. This example 
stimulated others to follow the same course ; so that in the course of a 
short time, all the stalls of the traders and changers were upset and 
robbed, and a great many of the owners beaten. 

The mass of people seeing the illegal proceedings, withdrew them- 
selves as quickly as possible from the scene of confusion, in fear they 
should be criminated with the offenders — among them, Jesus and his 
followers silently betook themselves away, and quietly passed out of 
the city. The same scene of confusion and robbery passed all around 
the portico of the court of the Gentiles, until the alarm being spread 
through the city, the Roman guards were sent to quell the disturbance 
and arrest the offenders. Then, Cosbi seeing the guards approaching, 
dropped the patch from his eye, pulled down the hump from under his 
vestment, and made his escape without being suspected of being the 
originator of the disturbance. He was acting under the authority and 
at the suggestion of Judas. 



VISION FIFTEENTH. 

Again, my souVs consciousness her pleasing task renews. — For a while 
she absents herself from corporeal sense, that she may enter into 
communion with Spirits of other spheres, learning the secrets of 
mortal strife of the past, and then transmit them to the present age 
through the portals of the mind's memory. 

The scene presented to the mental eye was a lofty chamber in the 
palace of the Sanhedrim, gorgeously decorated with hangings of purple 
and scarlet colors, embroidered with gold and silver. Two rows of 
pillars with fluted shafts ran lengthways, with ornamented capitals 
supporting a ceiling curiously groined and painted. On one side were 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 175 

window-casements opening into the Court of Israel, and on the other 
side, looking over the eastern part of the Holy City. On another side 
was a folding door opening into a suit of private apartments, and on 
a fourth side was the door of public entrance from the external parts of 
the palace. At different parts of the walls were pedestals supporting 
branched candlesticks or lamps of solid gold, and between them were 
elevated seats, covered with the most costly cloths of purple and gold. 
The floor was covered with a thick matting, over which was spread a 
cloth of various colors, worked in gold and silver. Such was the 
audience chamber of Caiaphas, the High Priest. 

Caiaphas was in this chamber alone, pacing to and fro with a slow 
noiseless step — his head slightly bending forward in apparent deep 
reflection ; and from the emotional working of his hard features, his 
thoughts seemed to be none of the most pleasant. The numerous lamps 
emitted a brilliant light, for it was evening— about the fourth hour of 
the day following that on which he, as High Priest, made the ceremonial 
visit to the Holy of Holies. His dress was more humble than that of 
the day before: his head being circled with a simple tire of white linen, 
and a vestment of white reaching to his feet, with a plain girdle of blue 
around his loins. He was a tall, spare man, with harsh angular features 
more expressive of worldly interests than holiness and serenity. There 
was no sign of ambitious aspirations in his eyes, but rather of satiety 
and disgust with worldly greatness ; for as his thoughts passed through 
his mind, they would arouse many a scornful curl of the lip and 
irritable glance of the eye. 

As thus he paced the gorgeous chamber, a train of thoughts passed 
through his mind of the following nature: — 

"This, then, is the acme of human greatness," he said musingly, 
" among the people of Israel at least ! O foolish and accursed ambition ! 
foolish and infatuated man that I have been, thus to sacrifice my peace 
and quietness, principles, virtue and wealth for this bauble of a priestly 
mitre! Had I foreseen how little enjoyment — how little true honor is 
to be gained in this exalted station, I would have eagerly seized the 
most humble lot in preference, and felt myself fortunate and happy in 
the choice. Had I known how galling would have been my loss of 
self-respect, and the disgust I feel in being compelled to act the hypocrite, 
I would rather have been a dog than be sensible to such mortification. 
The time was once, no doubt, when this high office was worth the 
struggle for its possession; there was much self-exaltation to be felt in 
filling it. Then there was some gratulatory pride to be experienced as 
a High Priest looking down from his lofty station upon the mass or 
credulous, ignorant people, for he knew that they elected him from 
their sense of his superiority to themselves. But now, the case is 
different — the people, though credulous as ever, have not the power to 
elect the priest of their choice. The all-grasping Roman Eagle has 
taken it to itself to do so, and thus the people are discontented, baying 
no longer the love and reverence for the office. The office has lost iis 
prestige, for the world begins to view it in its true light, as (he meana 
established by the cunning and ambitious to sway the rude and ignorant 
mass, while the intelligent begin to scorn and despise it. horrible! 



176 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

When I reflect that I am daily obliged to be the chief actor of the 
grossest of mummeries, in support of the vilest system of superstition 
that ever cursed the society of man, without the respect of the people, 
or my own self-approbation to compensate me for the sacrifice of my 
feelings. O cursed ambition that " 

The soliloquy of Caiaphas was suddenly arrested, as his eye en- 
countered one of the priestly order, who stood a few feet within the 
door of public entrance, awaiting with respectful demeanor the re- 
cognition of his presence before he advanced further ; but as soon as he 
caught the glance of the High Priest, he bent himself in obeisance. 

"Approach, reverend Gamaliel," said Caiaphas, as he instantly as- 
sumed an air and attitude of solemn dignity. 

The man thus addressed was a little above the common stature, with 
meagre aspect, bronzed complexion, long gray hair, full white beard, 
and hazel eyes, denoting a man of thought. Upon his high, broad 
forehead was placed a tall, conical black tire or cap, more for distinction 
than comfort. He was habited in a long black vestment fringed around 
the bottom, and a girdle around his loins of various colors. 

At the bidding of his superior, he approached within a few feet of 
him, repeating the obeisance, but not so low as before ; then placing his 
hands upon his breast, with his eyes cast down, he awaited to be ad- 
dressed before he stated his business. This man was Kabban Gamaliel, 
who was Nasi or President of the Sanhedrim, the High Priestly Court 
of Israel. 

" What news, Gamaliel, from the Sanhedrim?" inquired Caiaphas — 
"To judge from the sad expression of thy countenance, it bodes no 
good." 

"Most Reverend Superior," replied Gamaliel seriously, "there are 
others at Jerusalem who wear a sad countenance besides myself. The 
whole city is in confusion and terror — waging a war of conflicting 
opinions concerning the doings and doctrines of this great Innovator 
they call Jesus. The greater part, as yet, are disbelievers in his words 
and acts, and are enraged against him ; but there is no knowing how 
long they may remain so, for he is making proselytes by his teaching, 
and gaining many adherents. The same confusion has seized the San- 
hedrim. The greater part are aroused to anger and hostility, while a 
part seem to be stricken with terror, for they timidly hold back their 
counsels, and refuse to proceed to extreme measures. Some went so 
far as to say that this innovator is possibly what he is represented to 
be — the Messiah as promised." 

" What! are there such fools in the Sanhedrim?" exclaimed Caiaphas 
with a start and a curl of his lip. "I should have thought that their 
learning and experience were such as to enable them to estimate the 
outpourings of Prophets according to their intrinsic worth." 

"May it please your Mighty Reverence to consider," replied Gama- 
liel, "that there are members of the Sanhedrim who do not presume 
to be equal in wisdom and knowledge with your Sacred Self; they, 
therefore, are more liable to view things, in some respects, like the 
common people. Now this timid party in the Sanhedrim seem to think 
that there is some truth in the doctrines of this innovator, and that his 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 177 

Hrorks of healing the sick are undeniable facts. Such opinions as these 
oecome schisms and herisies in our counsels ; for whatever may be the 
private opinions of any of our members, it becomes all of us, who wish 
:o support our Holy Order and all its institutions, to say and do that 
Dnly, which shall conform to the old established routine of things." 

"I believe thou art correct, Gamaliel," returned Caiaphas, feigning 
an acknowledgement of error, "Pardon my momentary forgetfulness 
W? our most sacred dignity. Pray go on — what decision did the San- 
hedrim come to?" 

"Most Reverend Sire," answered Gamaliel, "the greater part of tho 
members, in their anger, would have this Jesus arrested and brought 
before them on a charge of blasphemy, but I thought it better to arrest 
their proceedings until I should know your most sacred opinion." 

Caiaphas crossed his sacred arms upon his breast, and with every 
appearance of profound reflection remained silent for some minutes ; 
^while Gamaliel, with his eyes turned to the ground, remained in re- 
spectful silence. At length, the former, in a voice expressive of doubt 
*and uneasiness, remarked : 

"Gamaliel, this is a perplexing business: I know not what to say. 
What wouldst thou advise?" 

"Reverend Sire," answered Gamaliel, "these are troublous times; it 
therefore behoves us not to be hasty in our proceedings, so that a rash 
act shall not accelerate that which we wish to arrest — yet the state of 
things is such, that something must be done to stop the progress of this 
Innovator. By his address to the people in Solomon's Porch yesterday, 
the low, thievish part of the populace availed themselves of an oppor- 
tunity and excuse to commit acts of rapine and plunder, which they 
; masked under the pretence of ridding the temple of its profanation. 
I This class of people, combined with the sincere admirers of his doc- 
trines and works, make already a formidable force in the city ; and, 
according to accounts, I have heard that his influence extends over 
one-third of Judea and Galilee. As his influence extends, that of our 
Order will decrease and become at length prostrate." 

"Well, what wouldst thou suggest as a remedy?" inquired Caiaphas 
eagerly. 

" Most Reverend Sire," responded Gamaliel, "before I suggest any- 
thing, I wish to introduce to your sacred presence a man who is well 
acquainted with this Jesus — knowing the general tenor of his doctrines, 
his power, his designs and influence in the country. This man is one, 
who has some interest in the support of our Order, and the suppression 
! of the influence of this Jesus. He therefore wishes to have an inter- 
view with your Reverence, to make certain statements and propositions. 
If it will meet the approbation of your Reverence I will introduce him, 
for he is in the palace awaiting your pleasure." 

" Dost thou know this man — canst thou trust him?" inquired Caia- 
phas. 

"I have known him, your Reverence," returned Gamaliel, "from 

the time that he was a little boy — for he was a pupil of mine and an 

apt scholar. He is of respectable parentage of the tribe of Benjamin ; 

his name is Saul, from Tarsus in Cilicia. He is learned and astute 

12 



178 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

with many agreeable manners ; with all he is ambitious, which, when 
turned to the cause of our Order, will add to its acceptability.' ' 

44 Let him be introduced im mediately," said Caiaphas hurriedly, 
" Such a man as thou describest is needed to prop up our failing great- 
ness." 

Gamaliel immediately left the chamber, leaving the High Priest to 
his reflections ; but he soon returned followed by Saul, who advanced 
within a few feet of the latter, and made a most profound obeisance. 
He was dressed as a citizen, in rich garments but plain. His head tir3 
was of blue and white linen in form of a wreath, and his vestment of 
purple cloth reaching below the middle of his leg ; his underdress of 
pink silk reaching below the knees; his legs bare, over which were 
laced his sandals, and around his loins a girdle of blue, red and white. 

Caiaphas eyed him for a few moments with a piercing glance, the 
result of which was he seemed pleased with his appearance ; then, in a 
complacent tone of voice, he observed : 

44 It has pleased thy friend and former tutor, our reverend brother 
Gamaliel, to make report of thee, which in all things considered, give 
thee credit as one worthy to be admitted to our presence; I therefore 
make thee welcome." 

"Most reverend and exalted Sire," said Saul, again bowing obse- 
quiously, "your most gracious condescension in thus admitting me 
your most humble servant to your most sacred presence, shall be ever 
gratefully impressed upon my mind and heart." 

Caiaphas gave Saul another penetrating glance, as he said to himself 
44 This man is not an ordinary tool that any one can use. He has fea- 
tures expressive of great energy and firmness — an eye of great intelli- 
gence and astuteness — his lips seem capable of pouring forth the most 
flattering and seductive words; with a bold, lofty forehead, denoting 
lofty aspirations and desire of command; — altogether, he seems to be 
one more fitting to be a king, or a High Priest, than I am." Then 
turning his attention to Saul, he observed : 

" Our reverend brother has informed us that thou art acquainted with 
the man called Jesus — that thou couldst reveal many things concerning 
him, which we may deem worthy of consideration: if so, let us know 
what they are." 

"I could say many things concerning this Jesus," replied Saul with 
great modulation of tone, " but much may possibly be offensive to your 
Holy Order; I therefore crave your indulgence and consideration in 
whatever I may say of an offensive nature, and believe that I, as the 
humble narrator, am in no wise connected with the enemies of your 
Holy Order." 

"I beg thee, Sir, to speak with all due candour and freedom, making 
no reserve," returned the High Priest. 

"I take this as a further proof of your condescension," returned Saul, 
— "I shall therefore proceed to relate what I know of this Jesus, that I 
consider ought to come before your Order. 

44 In the first place, this Jesus possesses great beauty of person, which 
commands the admiration and prepossession of all who set eyes upon 
him ; then he has a rich musical voice, which he modulates with such 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 179 

skill that all his words seem to personate all the characters of the 
subject of his discourse. His learning seems to be unlimited, whatever 
may be the subject brought before his notice; and no one, as yet, lias 
been capable of coping with him in argument, — yet there are some 
things in which he is defective, and on such points he may be led 
into error. In his nature he is mild, meek and humble in all things 
pertaining to himself: full of sympathy — of a loving and unbounded 
benevolence to all men, excepting those he deems the oppressors of tho 
people. In his dealings and decisions he is scrupulous, exact, impartial 
and strictly just. He is learned in all the theology of the Jewish in- 
stitutions, and the Holy Order of the Priesthood ; and where he sees 
error, imposition, oppression and injustice, he is indefatigable and bold 
' in denouncing these errors, and speaking the truth to the people." 

"God of our Fathers!' exclaimed Caiaphas in astonishment, "Is this 
1 the man against whom thou wouldst conspire ? I never knew a man 
of so perfect a character as thou hast given this one." 

"Most Reverend Sire," responded Saul, as he erected himself with 
an air of assurance, "I came not here to speak otherwise of this man 
than to represent his true character, and in so doing, I think your Holy 
Order will have greater cause to dread him than if I were to vilify him." 

"By the Holy of Holies!" exclaimed Caiaphas, as he lifted up his 
* eyelids and stared upon Saul with still greater astonishment for a few 
seconds. At length a new light seemed to break upon his mind — the 
marked expression of his countenance subsided to a softer tone, when 
1 he added: "Well! I believe thou art right; thou hast so singular a 
mode of treating an enemy, that I was taken by surprise ; but I think 
I see the point at which thou art aiming thy shafts. What thinkest 
thou, reverend brother?" he added, addressing Gamaliel, "Didst thou 
mark the words of thy pupil? He says this man Jesus is learned in 
all the theology of our institutions and Order of Priesthood, and when- 
' ever he sees error, imposition or injustice, he is indefatigable in de- 
nouncing these errors and telling Jhe truth to the people. What 
: thinkest thou of that?" 

"I think, most Reverend Sire," replied Gamaliel with bitterness of 
expression, "that this Jesus is a dangerous man to our Holy Order, 
i and that we ought to proceed against him, if for no other cause, even 
to smiting him to death." 

Caiaphas was rather shocked at the vindictive denunciation of Gama- 
liel against Jesus, for he slightly trembled and remained silent for a 
time, but at length he observed to Saul : 

"There are great reports of wonderful cures of diseases that this 
Jesus has performed: what knowest thou on that head, worthy Saul?" 

"This much, Reverend Sire," replied Saul. "These reports are true 
in part and false in part. It is true that he possesses a power of cure in 
certain diseases, and to a certain extent over some others; when, upon 
others, he cannot make any favourable impression. What this power 
is I know not, nor can any other man account for it that I have heard, 
and I do not believe that even Jesus himself can. But he considers it 
to be natural — for he says that other men have possessed it before him, 
and will after him ; he, therefore, does not make any pretensions to a 



180 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

supernatural power, as the people believe him to possess. Such in* 
stances have been known in other parts of the world, therefore we may 
know that it can be nothing more than a natural power, though we 
know not what it is. The cures that he has effected, the people have 
exaggerated by converting them into great miracles ; and when they 
take into account the hints and assertions of that crazy John the Baptist, 
they firmly believe that this Jesus must be the Messiah of whom the 
Prophets have spoken. However, it is quite certain that this belief is 
fast spreading among the people, and if Jesus should give countenance 
to it, it will spread with still greater rapidity ; for he is a man quite 
capable of gaining their love and confidence, and as it spreads, all his 
doctrines will accompany it; then there will be a rapid revolution in 
the minds of men. Old institutions will be undermined, giving way 
rapidly to the great change of the public mind; then, most Reverend 
Sire, your Holy Order will fall with a crash, like all the rest of mun- 
dane things. " 

Caiaphas could not help being struck with the true picture of things 
that Saul drew, which formed the subject ©f their discourse. He per- 
ceived that Saul was a man well acquainted with all the mysteries of 
Jewish Theocracy, and all the secret designs, interests, delusions and 
mummeries of the Priesthood ; and knowing this, he felt a shame that 
all the secrets of one in his position should be open to the penetrating 
eye of such a man. He felt humiliated as he stood in his presence, and 
almost dreaded the next time he should look upon his countenance, to 
catch a glance from his eye or a curl from his lip, expressive of scorn 
and contempt. He saw clearly that Saul was a man of great mind and 
ambitious of power, who had some secret design in thus coming for- 
ward to aid him in the cause of the Priesthood; but judging his designs 
to be of no greater extent than to obtain some office, he thought there 
would be no occasion to fear or mistrust him by holding back any 
secrets or desires. He, therefore determined to consult with him in all 
confidence and accept his friendship and assistance, for he had great 
reliance in his superior wisdom. Having made these reflections, he 
remarked to Saul, in a more familiar and affable tone than before: 

44 My worthy friend Saul, it would be folly in me if I did not acknow- 
ledge the truth and wisdom of thy remarks. Thou seemest to under- 
stand the true position of our Holy Order, and the dangers that menace 
it from the changes now undergoing in the social mind, and thou hast 
clearly intimated the ominous state of the future. The character of 
the great Innovator, who is the cause of all this dreaded change, thou 
hast ably described ; and now there is still another thing thou must do 
to fill up the measure of thy services." 

" There are no services, though ever so great, that I could not venture 
upon, to serve one of your niost exalted station and reverence : you 
have only to name them," responded Saul with another most obsequious 
obeisance. 

44 We would that thou shouldst suggest the means," resumed Caia- 
phas, 44 by which this Jesus can be arrested in his progress, without 
danger to our Order, and yet be so effective that we shall not fear him 
hereafter. Give us thy counsel on this point, and should we approve 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 181 

and avail oursolves of it, we will leave it to thee to intimate in what 
manner we can testify our acknowledgement of thy services." 

"Believe me, most Reverend Sire," responded Sanl, "this man must 
be proceeded against in a cautious and stratgetic manner — the ordinary 
proceedings of the Sanhedrim would endanger your own safety and 
not effect the desired end in view. It is to prevent this, which is one 
reason that I come forward to offer my humble advice and services, as 
I am devoted to the interest and continued support of your Holy Order. 
That which is done to arrest the progress of this man, I wish to see done 
well. If you arrest him and charge him before the tribunal of the 
Sanhedrim, you may condemn him and cast him into prison, but you 
will not achieve the end you desire by so doing; you will exasperate 
his adherents, who will effect his liberation by some means. The 
community will be thrown into great commotion, and our Roman 
masters, in order to quell it, may probably strike a blow at your au- 
thority ; the mass of the people may probably sanction it, and then, when 

' your power is once prostrated, you will find it difficult to recover : the 
cause of Jesus will then become more popular, and his adherents will 
be ten times more numerous. There are no means to prevent the pro- 
pagation of his doctrines and his influence over the people, except by 

1 removing him entirely from the scene of his actions. How is that to 
be done, unless by death? But this penalty the Sanhedrim has not the 
power to inflict ; it has passed from their hands to our Roman masters, 
and they will not spill the citizen's blood when they do not consider it 

, necessary to retain their power. What way, then, ought you to proceed 
in order to effect your object in view? Simply this: let this Jesus go 
on in his own way for a time without receiving any notice or molestation 
from the Sanhedrim ; give some one man authority, who is competent 
to watch over him ; let there be spies around him to record all his 
actions and words ; and let there be men always ready to do the will of 
this chief officer who has charge of him, — then it will be an easy matter 
so to entangle and enmesh him, that he shall commit some offence 
against our Roman Rule; or, others can be made to do so in his name. 
Men can be easily procured in this Holy City, to bear testimony that 

j they saw Jesus do so and so, or, to say such and such. When this 
critical time shall arrive, then the Sanhedrim may proceed against him ; 
then, with the charges against him of a political nature, he can be 
handed over to the Roman Governor — so that between the two tribunals 
and other influences brought to bear upon him, he may be made way 
with." 

Saul paused. Caiaphas could not but admire the strong reasoning oi 
Saul and the deep planned strategy he proposed; yet at the same time, 
in his heart he condemned its wickedness, and for some time he star 
gled with himself before he could decide to avail himself of the - 
tions. But he saw it would be vain for him to struggle againsl his 
difficulties, and he at length fell under the spell of Baal's superior 
mental power. Then turning to Saul, with some trepidation in his 
manner, he observed: 

"Thy suggestions, Saul, have the wisdom of a god, and the machina- 
tions of a " he was going to say devil, but cheeking himself, he ^aid 



182 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"bold man who is devoted to the welfare of our Order. But who is 
to accomplish and execute this deep laid scheme ? Canst thou suggest 
that, also?" 

"I am the man," replied Saul, as he erected his figure and looked 
upon Caiaphas with unflinching boldness. "Let that office be mine, 
and I will engage that in a reasonable time all these measures shall be 
accomplished. This work I have set my mind upon, and if you pro- 
mise that the Sanhedrim shall not interfere until I will it, the thing 
shall be done. Two things I shall require of you to my aid : — first, 
your sanction to do so, and secondly, the use of your signet ring until 
the matter be accomplished. Now say the word, most Reverend Sire — 
shall the work be done?" 

Both Caiaphas and Gamaliel were struck with astonishment at the 
boldness, callousness of heart, and seeming pleasure with which Saul 
offered to execute a plot of deep treachery and wickedness against a 
man he had portrayed in such glowing colors. They knew not what to 
think of it. Caiaphas beckoned to Gamaliel to step aside, when they 
walked to the farther end of the chamber and conversed in whispers. 

"What thinkest thou of thy friend in this affair," said Caiaphas to 
Gamaliel, "is he not a bold and desperate man?" 

"He is, your Reverence," answered Gamaliel: "That he is so, is 
good for our cause." 

"What can be his enmity against this Jesus?" inquired Caiaphas. 

"I am not aware that he has an enmity against him," responded 
Gamaliel. "Saul does not act from the impulses of common men; it 
is more probable that he admires the man against whom he is about 
to act." 

"That is strange," said Caiaphas musingly, and then after a slight 
pause, he added: "However, dost thou think he can be trusted in this 
affair, and with my ring? " 

"He is all prudence," replied Gamaliel, "and will not endanger us, 
I am sure; and as to your signet, I will answer that he shall use it only 
in our cause, and return it in safety." 

"It is well — I give my consent," said Caiaphas; then the two priests 
returned to Saul. 

" We give our consent to this enterprise, depending upon thy prudence 
in all matters as concern us," said Caiaphas to Saul. Then pulling the 
signet ring from his finger and presenting it to Saul, he added: "And 
I loan thee this signet upon one condition, which is, that thou dost not 
use it for any other purpose than that concerning which we have an 
understanding, and when this business is over, it must be returned." 

"Reverend Sir," responded Saul as he received the ring, "all your 
requests and wishes shall be complied with." 

Saul having made his obeisance of departure, left the presence of his 
most Sacred Reverence, the High Priest of the Holy Temple of Jehovah, 
in company of Gamaliel, with whom he conversed for awhile and then 
returned to his home. Thus terminated the interview between the 
arch conspirators, and the settlement of the great conspiracy against 
the best man that ever breathed. 

When Saul returned to the public inn where he dwelt, on entering 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 183 

•.. 
fciis chamber he found Judas awaiting him. He related to the latter 

his interview with the High Priest, or as much of it as he thought proper 
for Judas to know. They then sat down, took wine, and conversed 
upon the future proceedings of their nefarious plot against Jesus, with 
as much coolness and earnestness as though they were master archi- 
tects discussing the plan of an edifice. Saul then determined to write 
a letter in the name of Caiaphas, to Herod Antipas, Tetrach of Galilee, 
who reigned as king in that part of the country, advising him, as John 
the Baptist was in his power, to make way with him. He told Herod 
jthat John was a troublesome fellow and a slanderer — that John had 
slandered Herod all over the country, and was an enemy to the Holy 
Priesthood ; he, therefore, desired that John should trouble neither of 
them any more. Saul then gave the letter to Judas, telling him to find 
I a trusty messenger and have it sent as soon as he could. Judas received 
lit, promising to comply with his orders, for he was going to start in 
that direction with Jesus in a day or two, and he would be enabled to 
convey it to Herod without an express messenger. Having concluded 
their business, they separated. 



VISION SIXTEENTH. 

Again, the Spirits my 'mental sphere control, when the soul, all sensitive 
to the mystic touch, calls up from the labyrinths of the mind legions 
of thoughts, which, inform and order, evolve a vision. 

At the south-western extremity of the Holy City, not far from the 
cattle market, there was a large spring of medicinal water, much 
celebrated throughout Judea for its power of curing many diseases. 
Whether these cures were produced from any sanitary qualities of the 
water, or whether through the means of excited minds in the afflicted, 
it is certain there were many cures produced ; so that the spring was 
visited daily by the afflicted, coming from all parts of Judea and more 
distant parts. 

The spring was walled around in form of a parallelogram, partially 
covered with an arch, and open on one side, where a flight of stone 
steps descended to the water. On either side were large magnificent 
porches, where the afflicted assembled and awaited their opportunity 
of bathing. At a certain time of the day the water gurgled into the 
pool faster than at other times; so that it was believed an angel stirred 
the water — then it was the most propitious time for bathing. When 
nigh the time of movement, the afflicted would be waiting in great 
anxiety for the sign, and as soon as it was given, all who could run, 
walk or crawl would immediately rush down the stops ami plunge in; 
many times there were severe accidents, and even deaths, as the con- 
sequence of the simultaneous rush; but poor cripples who could 
neither run or walk, were dependent upon their friends to be carried 
there. After bathing, some would consider themselves immediately 



184 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

cured — others would feel relieved ; and the greater part, though feeling 
no benefit, would depart buoyed up with hopes. 

It was on a Sabbath — in the early part of- the day, when a great crowd 
of afflicted persons were assembled within and without the porches, 
waiting for the movement of the waters. Many of them were para- 
lytics ; some had extensive sores in various parts ; some, diseases of the 
skin; some, internal complaints; and many had complaints unknown, 
— all of whom whiled the time away with comparative patience and 
good humor in relating the histories of their diseases, and the wonderful 
cures effected at the Pool of Bethesda. 

While things were in this state, Jesus, followed by Judas, John, Peter 
and some others of his followers, made his appearance among the 
afflicted people. Judas and Peter had persuaded their master to make 
this visit, to dispense his power of healing among the afflicted, as they 
thought it would be a good opportunity to extend his fame by a scheme 
they had planned, which they wished to put into operation. 

It was soon spread from mouth to ear that there was a great man 
present, who could cure diseases. A crowd soon began to collect around 
Jesus, who called upon him imploringly in the name of the Great Je- 
hovah and Father Abraham, that he would do something for them to 
relieve their sufferings. Then Jesus took a stand on an elevated spot, 
intimating that he would address the people ; and Matthew pulled out 
his note book, his reed and ink horn, which he carried In his girdle 
to be ready to take notes of anything remarkable that might occur, 
which he probably could convert into a wonderful tale. Then, Jesus 
casting a glance of commiseration upon the miserable creatures around 
him, in a mild and sympathizing tone of voice, thus addressed them : 

" My poor afflicted brethren : It grieves me to the heart to see you 
thus before me. My eyes are wet with tears of sympathy when I be- 
hold your sufferings; what then must be your feelings who have to 
suffer? O that it was in my power to give you instant relief! O that 
it were possible for me to relieve all mankind ! I would immediately 
sweep all maladies from the face of the earth. But it is not, my breth- 
ren, — I am a poor mortal like yourselves, with limited powers; yet, 
what little it has pleased God to give me, I am willing to exert in your 
favour. But first let me say a few words to you, which, perhaps, may 
do you some good. What are the causes of your sufferings, do you 
suppose, my brethren? Is it that you have sinned, or your fathers, Or 
fathers' fathers before you ? Does God afflict you because your fore- 
fathers have sinned? Moses states in the Decalogue that such is the 
will and decree of the Lord, and you may think it hard and unjust 
that it is so. So it would be, my brethren, if the Lord ever made such 
a decree ; but such is not the fact — let me exculpate him from the charge. 
God is not guilty of such injustice and cruelty, for he is a God of love 
and mercy, striving to make all things good. How, then, came these 
evils with which you are afflicted? It is thus, my friends: — when the 
Great God of Nature put all matter into motion, by mingling with it 
his divine essence, he strove to do the best that could be done with the 
vast material mass by the power of his love and wisdom, and as the 
various phenomena came forth, they were endowed with fixed and 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 185 

perpetual laws. As long as those laws are unbroken, every thing goes 
on well ; when they are broken by any means, they go on badly, and 
the result is ruin and destruction. Every phenomenon that continues 
from age, to age in conformity with established principles, becomes 
better instead of worse; and everything that departs from its original 
principles as it continues from one age to another, becomes worse instead 
of better, until it runs out and is lost: for God never condescends to 
alter his fixed principles in any of his works. Now, my friends, let 
me inform you that man is one of those phenomena which is worked 
out by God's eternal principles. If a man passes through life in ac- 
cordance with those established principles, he does well, and as posterity 
advances, he improves; but if he departs from those principles, he 
deteriorates — he becomes diseased, deformed and useless, and will, in 
time, run out and be lost. This is the cause, my friends, of your 
diseases and deformities in most cases. Either you or your fathers 
have departed from the established principles of your natures, and 
brought upon you your miseries as the inevitable results. You call 
them afflictions and attribute them to God as the author, but it is not so 
— he is not so cruel and merciless as to afflict poor mortals who have 
erred through ignorance ; he would rather mitigate t^eir miseries if he 
could, without altering his eternal principles of creation. As a proof of 
this, he has endowed some men with powers which can mitigate the 
sufferings of others, and ameliorate their conditions. I am one of those 
powers which God has suffered to exist, to mitigate the sufferings of my 
fellow men. Man is composed of body and spirit ; the body may be 
unsound but the spirit may be sound, and these sufferings of the body 
may open your eyes to the preservation of the spirit before it is too late 
to save it. Then thank God you are not altogether impure and hope- 
less, for as the body may be past recovery, the spirit may not be so. The 
body will die and be lost in the elements, but the spirit, if pure, will 
live and enter into another world of enjoyment. Then, my brethren, 
gain wisdom from your past sufferings, — turn your attention to the 
cultivation and improvement of the spirit, for that will profit you most. 
Nevertheless, if there be any hopes, it will be well to attend to the body 
also; therefore what little power I have, I will devote to your benefit." 

Jesus having made an end to his address, commanded his followers 
to so arrange the afflicted people that they might receive the benefit of 
his touch. The followers proceeded to do as they were bid, by placing 
them in a row at a short distance from each other, when they formed a 
line of about fifty feet in extent. Then Jesus passed along the line, and 
to every person he ministered certain motions of his hands, aided with 
the power of his eyes. With some he staid a few moments, and with 
others a longer time; touching them on various parts of their persons, 
while to others he gave a simple wave of the hand. As soon as he had 
terminated these proceedings, he stood before them and observed : 

"My friends, with the blessing of God, and a struggle within your- 
selves to pnove worthy of his blessings, you may become cured. Now, 
as soon as the waters of the pool are moved, go and bathe seven times 
a day; and when you do so, pour water upon your heads, calling upon 
my name." 



186 THE TRUE HISTORY OF - 

Jesus, in giving this last order, was not vain or foolish enough to 
think that his name would be more efficacious in producing a cure 
than any other man's name, but he did so to make a decided impression 
upon their minds ; for he knew that if their minds could be aroused 
and concentrated to a firm belief in that effect, the chance of cure would 
be more possible and probable. He knew, also, that some of the cures 
would depend upon the impression he made upon their minds solely : 
thus it was he told them to use his name. To give them time for their 
minds to act favourably, he told them to go through the operations 
seven times over. 

The signal was now given that the waters of the pool were moving, 
when, immediately, the afflicted made a rush to the place as fast as their 
powers of locomotion would allow them. Some ran; some walked; 
some tottered ; some crawled ; and some actually leaped and soon got 
to the steps leading down to the pool, which they descended somehow, 
and immediately plunged into the waters. 

Jesus was now about to retire from the pool, when his attention was 
arrested by some one calling upon his name in piteous strains: "O 
Jesus, Jesus, thou man of God! have pity on me!" Then Judas and 
Peter went to the porches, from whence the voice came, to discover who 
it was that called, and in a few moments they returned, helping along 
a miserably deformed and diseased creature, and brought him before 
Jesus. He seemed to be a man advanced in years, with a blotched and 
disfigured face. He supported his body by resting on two short crut- 
ches ; his knees being on the ground and his legs, which were apparent- 
ly lifeless, he dragged after him. His head was covered with a dirty 
linen, from beneath which spread around long gray locks of hair. His 
eye-brows were enormously large, of a grayish white, and his face was 
nearly covered with a mass of gray beard, moustache and whiskers. 
On one side of his neck there was a large swelling, which caused his 
head to hang on the other side. His dress consisted of a combination 
of rags of various sizes, shapes and colors ; so that altogether, he pre- 
sented a revolting spectacle of misery and misfortune. 

As soon as Jesus caught sight of him, he was shocked, and instinc- 
tively placed his hand upon his heart to quiet the painful emotions 
aroused within him. 

44 Jesus, thou man of God! have pity upon me, and do something to 
relieve me!" piteously cried the poor man, as soon as Peter and Judas 
placed him before their master. 

44 1 doubt that any power of mine can do thee any good, my poor 
man," answered Jesus with sympathy and regret. 44 Thou must look 
to God above for help." 

44 1 know thou canst help me, kind master, for my dreams have told 
me so," returned the deformed man pertinaciously. 

44 Master," observed Judas, 44 this poor man has long been praying 
and wishing for thee : he believes strongly that thou canst help him, 
and will not be satisfied unless thou wilt touch him." 

44 Well— be it as thou wilt," said Jesus, addressing the poor man, 44 lf 
thy strong faith and my good will and power will cure thee, be thou 
cured." 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 187 

Then Jesus quietly laid his hand upon the head of the poor man, who 
immediately uttered an ejaculation of mingled joy and surprise, and 
exclaimed : 

"O! forever blessed be thy name, kind master! I feel better already, 
and if thy servants will carry me to the pool, I doubt not that I shall 
recover." 

Then Jesus gave orders to Judas and Peter to carry the man to the 
pool, and then he turned from the place and bent his steps towards the 
temple, followed by John, James and the others. 

As Judas and Peter were carrying the deformed to the pool, the for- 
mer whispered in the ear of the latter : 

" Cosbi, thou art an excellent mimic, and thy disguises are perfect, — 
thy father would not have known thee." 

"What father does know his son?" said Cosbi laughing — for he was 
the deformed. 

"This will be a miraculous cure when finished," observed Peter 
dryly. "When I shall tell it to my old acquaintances, they will think 
that I have improved on the big fish story." 

"Well Cosbi," resumed Judas, "when we throw thee into the pool 
thou must finish thy cure, and not forget to let the folks know that it 
was Jesus who wrought this miraculous effect upon thee." 

"I think we had better get Matthew to draw up an account of it," 
observed Peter; " he is a great hand at the marvellous style — then we 
can recite it to the people." 

"O leave it to me," said Cosbi — "when you throw me into the pool, I 
will give a good account of it. O ! what fun I shall have among the 
cripples ! " Then Cosbi laughed. 

Then the whole party descended the steps to the pool, when Judas 
and Peter threw Cosbi into the water among the others ; who immedi- 
ately commenced splashing, floundering, jumping, shouting and clap- 
ping his hands, declaring that he was perfectly cured, and that the man 
of God, Jesus, had done it. 



VISION SEVENTEENTH. 

Now, the Spirits by their mystic powers the vision change before my 
mental view, as quick and noiseless as the shadow on the dial is 
moved, when a cloud obscures the sun; and then another scene 
arises, ivith forms pertaining to enact another part in the history 
of the past. 

The Beautiful Gate is the largest and handsomest of nine which gives 
entrance to the Court of Israel from the Gelltiles , Court. It stands 
fronting the east with a colonade and range of chambers on either side 
—the ground being seventeen feet above the other court, and the pillars 
being forty-seven feet high with the entablature making sixty, This gate 
is of surpassing magnificence, and is about ninety feet In height and 
seventy in width; the door being of massive Corinthian brass , covered 



188 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

on both sides with gold plates, as also the joints and lintels — with plain 
or fretted figures in low or high relief. On either side of the doorway 
is a tower seventy-three feet high, adorned with columns twenty feet in 
circumference. All the exquisite art and ingenuity of the Jewish people 
seem to have been expended on this particular gate, for it was the most 
gorgeous of all the other parts of the temple. No one but an Israelite 
was allowed to enter it to the court beyond, for all other nations and 
creeds were excluded to the court below. When one of the true faith, 
as he considered himself, passed through the Gentiles' Court and entered 
at this beautiful gate, a glow of pride and vanity ran through him, to 
think that he was one of the privileged, — he thought he must be su- 
porior to those he had passed in his way ; he, therefore, could not help 
giving support and praise to institutions which had given birth to such 
vanity and error. 

It was about the second hour, when Jesus and some of his followers 
were walking in the Gentiles' Court in front of the Beautiful Gate. 
Since the remarkable cure that had taken place at the Pool of Bethesda 
in the morning, his fame had considerably extended ; so that whereso- 
ever he was seen, some one knew him, who would impart this informa- 
tion to others, and crowds of people would gather round about him. 
On the present occasion there were many people gathered in small 
groups up and down before the gate. They all stared at him as he 
passed. Some cried aloud that "he was the man of God." Others, that 
"he was the Messiah," — while others approached him humbly, asking 
for his blessing; and others made so bold as to stoop and kiss the sel- 
vage of his garment. At length, a group of men approached him, and 
prostrating themselves before him in the most humble manner, when 
one of them, who acted as speaker for the rest, said : 

"Master, we have heard that thou art a good and wise man, — that 
thou art blessed of God— holding a power from him to cure many com- 
plaints of the unhappy and afflicted people. We beg of thee to help 
us, for we are sorely plagued with divers complaints ; impart to us, we 
beg of thee, the virtue of thy mysterious power, by placing thy hand 
upon us and healing our diseases." 

"Is it in me, or in God, thou trustest?" inquired Jesus, who was 
much pleased with the honest and sensible speaking of the man. " I 
am nothing more than a poor mortal like thyself— for I cannot lift my 
finger through any independent will of my own." 

" Master," replied the man, " I know that all things come of God, and 
that we are all dependent on him ; yet there are some of his children 
who have received a greater portion of his grace and power than others." 

"Thou hast spoken wisely," remarked Jesus, who could not help 
being struck with the ideas of the man — being so much more rational 
than the superstitious notions of the people generally. "It is as thou 
say est ; and whatever advantage I have over thee through God's favour, 
I will share with thee and thy companions to your benefit. Arise then, 
good people." 

Then Jesus placed his hands upon the heads of all of them, at the 
same time giving them his blessing; when they departed rejoicing and 
invoking blessings in return. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 189 

Then a tall man approached Jesus, who was dressed in a long black 
vestment fringed around the bottom, and a girdle of the same arouijrf. 
his loins, with a plain linen tire around his head ; having a high conical 
black centre piece, from beneath which his coarse black hair hung down 
straight, just reaching the nape of his neck, and cropped all around 
with" great precision. His visage was long and meagre, of a dirty olive 
complexion ; his beard black, long, combed out straight and cut even 
at the ends. The corners of his mouth were drawn down most lugu- 
briously, and his hazel eyes emitted an expression of great gloomi- 
ness. As this man approached Jesus, his steps were staid and solemn ; 
when suddenly arresting them, he confronted him with a look of se- 
verity and disapprobation, and said in a harsh tone of voice: 

"Knowest thou man of confusion, that this day is the Sabbath, and 
that thou art breaking the laws in performing thy acts of jugglery and 
pretended cures?" 

Jesus, when he saw this man confront him, felt instinctively that an 
enemy was in his presence, and before any dialogue had commenced, 
he erected his noble person with an air of defiance. The thousand 
graces of love and amiability that generally played around his mouth, 
forsook him for a time, — they became compressed, and his nostrils 
dilated and expanded with the current of life rapidly passing through 
them. But when the man addressed him in the language as above 
stated, his eyes, which generally expressed loving and amiable emotions 
for the moment forsook their wonted offices and now beamed with 
a powerful fire of high indignation, expressing the dignity of his man- 
hood to be insulted and aroused for defence or war. 

"Man of folly and conceit," replied Jesus in an emphatic manner, 
" who art thou, thus to question me? Thinkest thou that I am a pagan 
that I know not when is the Sabbath ? — I, who when a child, could 
repeat the laws of Moses — thinkest thou that I know not the law?" 

"Then if thou knowest these things, why dost thou break the law?" 
further inquired the man in black. " Is it not commanded to keep tho 
Sabbath holy?" 

" Did Moses, or the God that spoke through Moses, give permission 
that unholy acts may be done on any other day of the week? " inquired 
Jesus. 

"No," replied his opponent. 

"Then," resumed Jesus, "if all our acts are required to bo holy, 
where is the difference, whether we do them on a Sabbath or any othor 
day?" 

The opponent could not find an answer to this question, so he con- 
tented himself by frowning and allowing Jesus to resume. He was 
one of the dominant religious sects of that day, called the Pharisees, 
who made great pretensions to extreme piety and righteousness, but 
practised only hypocricy and selfishness. 

"What are holy acts," resumed Jesus, "but such as will pleo.se God 
and benefit man. Then let my acts be examined by this test — they will 
speak for themselves. If they are evil they cannot be holy— therefore 
they ought not to be done on any day ; and if they be good, they are 
holy — therefore it is no sin to do them on the Sabbath. If thou wert 
sick and I cure thee, would it be good or bad for thee?" 



190 THE TftUE HISTORY OF 

44 In that oase, it would be good," replied the Pharisee 

"Well, then," resumed Jesus, "what else have I done for others but 
care their infirmities and enlighten their understandings, that they may- 
live a healthy life. Thus to act, is to conform to what is holy, whether 
it be done on a Sabbath or on any other day ; therefore I break not the 
law of Moses." 

" But the law requires that thou shalt do all thy work on the six days 
in the week, and rest on the Sabbath," remarked the Pharisee. 

44 My labor," replied Jesus, "is to do good; I hold it as the greatest 
principle upon which all true religion ought to be founded — to do good 
without ceasing, without distinction of time or seasons as long as we 
have the power to do so ; and I will defy the whole body of the Priest- 
hood to find a law of Moses to oppose it. Which wouldst thou rather ' 
do — save thy ox from falling into the pit on the Sabbath, or leave it to 
the next day, when thy efforts would avail thee nothing to save it? " 

44 In that case," replied the Pharisee, "I think I should prefer saving 
the ox on the Sabbath ; but thou must recollect that this restriction of 
labor has reference to regular daily labor." 

44 The law of the Sabbath is good in that respect," replied Jesus; "the 
intent of the law was for the benefit of the poor laboring class, as a 
time of rest from labor, recruiting their powers, and a time for recrea- 
tion. But how is it construed by the Priesthood ? They say the Sab- 
bath is the Lord's day: on it thou shalt do no manner of work, exept- 
ing to wait on the Priesthood — to prepare their lood, their clothing, 
their houses, or anything else they may require. The law says, also, 
that the ox, the ass, or the servant shall not labor on that day ; — yet 
the priests ride their horses, asses and mules on that day whither they 
choose. This law of the Sabbath, though good in the intent, is like all 
the others — construed by the Priesthood to their advantage only." 

44 But," remarked the Pharisee, "the Sabbath is a day which is to be 
kept holy in commemoration of the Lord's works, for he made the 
world and all that is in it, and rested on the seventh day, which ho 
commanded to be kept holy." 

44 The cause assigned in the Decalogue for the observance of the Sab- 
bath, is but an absurd fiction," replied Jesus; "so egregiously absurd 
is it that no man can give it credence, unless he put aside common 
sense, general experience and all learning. I will put a very simple 
case to thee to prove my assertion. Suppose a man shall work for thee 
daily for forty days, and at the end of that time he has done so much 
work — we will say he has ploughed forty rods of land. What wouldst 
thou say, if that man told thee he had done, at a former time, ten thou- 
sand times more work than that in six days? " 

44 1 should think, in that case," replied the Pharisee, "that he was 
either a liar or a crazy man." 

44 Thou wouldst have reason," returned Jesus; "now let us apply 
this to the law of the Sabbath. According to Moses' account, when he 
was in the mountain of Sinai he was absent forty days and nights, 
while the Lord was making the two tablets containing the ten com- 
mandments. When Moses descended he read them to the people, and 
one of them says 4 that the Lord made heaven and earth in six days.' 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 191 

Now, if it took the Lord, with the aid of Moses, forty days to make two 
tablets of inscription, how can we believe the assertion that the Lord 
made heaven and earth in six days ? There is no rationality in believing 
it, it is so absurd and ridiculous. We must, therefore, infer that the 
cause assigned for the establishment of the law of the Sabbath is 
nothing more than an absurd fiction invented by Moses. If we ex- 
amine the features of this fiction, we shall find that we are at variance 
with all the experience and knowledge we are enabled to deduce from 
the phenomena of nature, for they amount to positive impossibilities. 
In the first place, it states ' the Lord created the heavens and the earth 
and all that in them is.' Now, the word create means to bring into 
existence. The world and all the other bodies in the heavens are vast 
masses of matter, which to create is an impossibility, even to God 
himself— for something cannot be brought out of nothing. An atom of 
matter cannot be made, neither can it be destroyed. There has always 
been as much matter as there is now, and there will be the same amount 
to all eternity. Matter is always undergoing a change of form ; but it 
never was created and never will be destroyed, — there the statement is 
false and silly. There is another point we must notice. It is said that 
'the Lord having finished his work on the sixth day, rested on the 
seventh.' This statement is disproved by the fiction itself in more 
instances than one, but I will view it in another light, to show its 
absurdity and impossibility. If we inquire into the nature of God, we 
are enabled to know this much at least: that he is an eternal active 
principle, — a vital essence, or subtle material power of intelligence and 
action; without an imaginary beginning, but now in action, never 
ceasing, and will never end. Then to suppose that he, after a certain 
amount of labor, became tired and needed rest, is to suppose that his 
nature is analogous to our own mortal state, which becomes fatigued 
. and exhausted, needing recuperation. This will be to compare God to 
a poor laborer, who sweats and toils, struggling, straining and panting 
at his work until he becomes exhausted, and then lies down to rest. 
How inconsistent — how absurd — how silly this conception would be of 
a God, a child would be enabled to see ! This fiction, therefore, needs 
no further refutation." 

" How, then, thinkest thou the Sabbath ought to be observed?" in- 
quired the Pharisee. 

" It was designed by Moses as a day of rest from labor," answered 
Jesus— " thus far it is good. The working people require one day of 
rest from labor in the week ; but there are other wants the mass of the 
people require, which they ought to seek on that day. They require 
intelligence,— therefore a part of the day ought to be set apart to tin* 
improving and refining their minds. They need recreations or amuse- 
ments, also, to buoy up their spirits to cheerfulness, and fortify them- 
selves against the disappointments and hardships of life, Yes, the 
remainder of that day ought to be devoted to rational and innocent 
amusements of dancing, singing, innocent games, exhibitions, walks, 
races, feats of power and emulation, gathering of kin and social assem- 
blages of all virtuous kinds; and many other ways by winch gloom, 
discontent, sorrow and apathy can be dispersed, the heart made cheerful 



192 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

and all rendered happy. Such is the manner the Sabbath ought to be 
observed, and such the people will enjoy when their rulers become wise." 

The Pharisee having no further objections to urge, Jesus ended his 
discourse about the Sabbath. The former took his leave with a little 
more civility than whei* he commenced the acquaintance of the latter, 
feeling that his previous notions were somewhat shaken. He thought 
that Jesus was not altogether an ignorant pagan, and by the time he 
reached his home, he felt that he was a wiser man. 

Jesus then left the Court of the Gentiles and the temple, when, having 
given Judas certain orders concerning his followers, he, in company with 
John, passed over the Mount of Olives to Bethany, where, in the hos- 
pitable home of Lazarus, he passed several days reposing himself after 
his exertions. Sweetly glided his hours in this retreat, surrounded by 
domestic comforts ; his stern arduous duties being exchanged for humble 
domestic enjoyments, which were rendered ten fold sweeter by the 
innocent enlivening discourse of his chaste and beloved Mary. 

Here he received a message from John the Baptist, who stated that 
he was in prison at Sychar, by the authority of Herod Antipas. John 
told him, also, that if he were the true Messiah, to come and release 
him, and if he were not, to send word, that he (John) should be no 
longer under delusion and false hopes. Then Jesus held a council with 
Judas, Peter, and John of Galilee, when it was decided to depart forth- 
with for Sychar in Galilee 



VISION EIGHTEENTH. 

Again, the Spirits with their mystic powers descend, and within my 
mental sphere rule supreme. — Legions of thoughts, obedient to their 
command, form and combine; presenting a vision as below described. 

The slanting rays of an evening sun gilded the temple roof, which 
stood on the top of Gerizim, where prayers, incense and sacrifice were 
daily put up, with other priestly performances, striving to rival the 
"Temple of the Lord" at Jerusalem. 

On the eastern side, stretching north and south, lay the narrow valley 
of Shechem. On the north-eastern side, at the termination of its lowest 
slope, stood the walled city of Sychar, which formed part of the do- 
minions of Herod Antipas, Tetrach of Galilee. Between this small 
city and the termination of the valley of Shechem, near to the base of 
the mountain, there was a well which was walled around with stone 
about two feet from the ground. Of so ancient a date was this well, 
that it was attributed to the times of their ancestor Jacob by the people 
of Samaria. 

The sun was fast disappearing behind the mountains, indicating that 
the day was near to a close. Shepherds and shepherdesses were re- 
turning with their flocks of sheep from the mountains to their en- 
closures around the town ; and a sombre haze was spreading over tho 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 193 

eastern sky, when four travellers arrived at the well, seeming to be 
wearied with their day's travel. They sat upon the edge of the well 
conversing for a time, waiting in hope some one would come to draw 
water, that they might have an opportunity of drinking; but their 
patience becoming exhausted, three of the four departed for the city, 
with the intention of procuring meat and drink, — the other preferring 
to await their return. 

The party of three had not long left their companion at the well, when 
a female of middle age, with a water vessel on her head, left the city 
and bent her steps to that spot. She was of a dark olive complexion, 
dark sparkling eyes, and long, jetty black hair tied behind in form of 
a club, which was adorned with trinkets and braids ; her features were 
agreeable, her form symmetrical, and her vesture gay and graceful. 

With a light bounding step she approached the well ; but as soon as 
she saw a stranger sitting there, she gave a start that caused her to place 
her hand to the vessel to keep it from falling. Her start was not one 
of fear or timidity, but rather of surprise and admiration on beholding 
so handsome a person so unexpectedly before her. Having deposited 
her vessel upon the ground, she gave a slight modest inclination of 
i recognition, and then proceeded to draw her water. The stranger re- 
moved from his position, courteously offering the woman his assistance, 
but she intimated she would rather do it herself. Having filled her 
vessel, she was about replacing it upon her head, when the stranger, 
who was no other than Jesus, addressed her in a mild, sweet and per- 
suasive voice : 

"Good woman, wilt thou give me to drink ?" 

The woman retreated a step with some degree of confusion and dis- 
tress, looking upon him with an expression as though she would 
willingly comply but dare not; and after a moment's hesitation, she 
replied : 

"How is this, Sir?— thou art a stranger to me, yet from Jhy appear- 
ance, I take thee to be a Jew. If I am right, thou knowest it is for- 
bidden by the Samaritans to eat or drink in company of Jews." 

"Thou art right, woman," replied Jesus mildly, "as far as the cus- 
, toms of thy people restrict and command thee ; but hast thou not 
I understanding enough to perceive that such customs are wicked preju- 
dices, unjust and inhuman? Wouldst thou treat all persons so who 
should ask of thee to drink? Wouldst thou refuse thy brother a drink 
if he should ask thee?" 

The woman seemed much troubled at what Jesus had said to her ; 
: then stepping aside from her vessel, she pointed to it and said : 

"In the name of our father Jacob! take the vessel, Sir, and drink — 
for thou knowest I dare not give it to thee." 

Then Jesus took the vessel and drank enough to quench his thirst; 
when, as he was replacing it, she added: 

"But tell me, Sir, what meanest thou by saying * wouldst thou refuse 
j thy brother a drink if he should ask thee?' " 

"I mean," replied Jesus, who reseated himself upon the well, "thnt 
we are all children of the same God, therefore I am thy brother. Tho 
God that formed this beautiful world, the sun, the moon and the stars, 

13 



194 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

is the same power that brought us into being as men and women ; 
therefore we are all the offspring of his parental care. Thus we ought 
to treat each other with as much love and kindness as though we were 
brothers and sisters of the same earthly parents. If, then, we are 
brothers and sisters of the same Heavenly Father, how wilj it sound in 
his ears when I shall say in my prayers, 'that thou, my sister, would 
not give me to drink when I asked thee? ' " 

" Thy views seem to have reason in them," replied the woman, as her 
timidity and prejudice seemed to soften, u and thy words sound plea- 
santly upon my ears, suggesting to me thoughts and feelings which I 
have often experienced in my dreams of happiness, but never realized." 

"Ah! " exclaimed Jesus, his eyes beaming with pleasure, "what thou 
hast just said confirms me of the truth." 

"What truth?" inquired the woman somewhat surprised 

"The truth is," returned Jesus, "thou concealest a prisoner within 
thee." 

"A prisoner in me!" cried the woman in greater amazement. 

"Yes, a prisoner, whose existence thou hast concealed from thyself," 
answered Jesus; "one whom thou hast neglected and treated with 
cruelty and injustice — keeping it shut out from the light of God's world 
to pine and suffer in the dungeon and darkness of thy ignorance. I 
mean, woman, thy soul — that divine spark of life which the Lord gave 
thee to improve and cultivate, but which thou hast deprived of its 
rightful authority and thrust into oblivion, placing around it the guards 
of evil customs and prejudices, to prevent its asserting its true nature. 
But when I was speaking to thee of our Heavenly Father— of our being 
his children, and our duty to each other as brothers and sisters, then 
that prisoner within thee heard my voice. Judging that some friend 
was near, it called aloud to be liberated ; then thou saidst my words 
suggested to thee thoughts and feelings which thou hadst often felt in 
thy dreams of happiness. O, woman! woman! let that ill-treated 
prisoner, thy soul, come forth to see the light. Turn away the guards 
and break the shackles of customs and prejudices, and let it come forth 
to the light of day in its native innocence, — even though it be as a little 
child. Let me direct it in the way that leads to the true God." 

"Who art thou?" inquired the woman, who seemed to be undergoing 
great emotions of mingled awe and reverence for the person before her. 
"Art thou a Rabbi, or a prophet, — for no man has spoken to me like 
thou hast done." 

"I am one, who aspires to be a man in his true dignity, having a 
consciousness that he possesses a portion of the God-head within him," 
replied Jesus in an impressive manner. 

" I know thou must be somebody of greater mind than I have seen 
in Samaria," remarked the woman with seeming reverence. "Our 
Rabbi tells us we must worship God upon Mount Gerizim — bring our 
offerings — perform our ceremonies — pay our tithes — respect our people 
and hate the Jews. Such are the duties we are told to perform ; but no 
one, except thou, has told me that ' the God of all nature is the God ot 
all men, — that we are all his children, and that we should love one 
another,' Then that imprisoned soul of mine which thou hast brought 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 195 

to my notice, filling me with wonder and unspeakable delight ! Kind 
and learned Sir, wilt thou come and tarry with us in our town? My 
husband, who is the custodian of the prison, will be delighted to see 
thee, and make thee welcome." 

Jesus saw that the woman was regarding him with a pleasing and 
respectful expression of countenance, and a degree of uneasy expec- 
tancy as to his reply. With these favourable indications and the kind 
tones in which she addressed him, he thought she would be willing to 
render him any kind service he should ask of her. Having reflected 
for a few moments, he at length replied : 

"Thou sayest thou hast a husband, and that he is custodian of the 
1 prison. Canst thou tell me what prisoners he has under his charge? " 

"There are but few," replied the woman, surprised at the question; 
"for our Lord, the Tetrach, is very severe — whoever disobeys his com- 
1 mands, is soon disposed of by death or otherwise. There are two 
robbers and two of his servants now in prison. There is an old looking 
man, besides, who was lately brought from the fortress of Mareschaeus, 
whose name is John the Baptist; he having offended our Lord in some 
way not known to me." 

" Wouldst thou do me a service if I ask it of thee?" demanded Jesus. 

"All that is in my power to do, I will do to serve so good a man as 
' thou," answered the woman earnestly. 

"Well, then," said Jesus, "go to thy husband and prevail upon him 
to give me an interview with this John the Baptist in his cell." 

"It is strictly forbidden," answered the woman, "that any one shall 
be admitted to see this prisoner, John ; but sometimes things are done 
contrary to the commands of our Lord, and I think it possibly can be 
again. I know that my husband loves me, and at times my word with 
him is as powerful as the command of Herod Antipas. I will now 
return to him, and f if possible, the thing shall be done. Be thou at this 
well about the fifth hour of night, — at that time all will be still and 
quiet in the town, then I will send a messenger to thee, who will inform 
thee if I succeed to thy desire." 

The woman then, making an inclination of respect, took up her water 
vessel which she placed upon her head, and with hasty steps departed 
for her home in Sychar. 

In a few minutes after the departure of the Samaritan woman, the 
followers of Jesus returned, bringing with them some provisions, in- 
cluding a bottle of wine holding about three gallons. Jesus then gave 
orders that they should seek out a favourable spot in the Woods, as near 
as possible to the well of Jacob, where they would take their Bvpper 
and pass the night — for by this time it was dark. They then retired to 
a copse not many yards distant, where they spread their mantles and 
every man made himself as comfortable as he could, and then proceeded 
to attack the good things they had bought at Sychar. Their appetites 
were good, and though it Avas dark, practice and instinct combined 
showed them the way the food ought to go. The goat skin bottle was 
repeatedly in request : Peter especially showing a great affection tor it. 
He embraced it with as much true love as though it were a Living pet, 
or child of his oavh. He took it in his anus and pressed ii ferventlj to 



196 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

his breast; placing his lips to the orifice where its head once had been, 
and then, with long repeated embraces, he expressed the ardor of his 
love and devotion ; and when at length he tore himself away, tears of 
sympathy or vinous excitement burst' from his eyes. 

Having satisfied their hunger and thirst, they passed some time 
discoursing on their adventures and future intended journey: Peter 
enlivening the talk every now and then with some facetious narrative, 
and once that night he related his big fish story, with an improvement. 

The time passed on until it was far into the night. John had fallen 
asleep, when Jesus arose, then telling Judas and Peter to remain where 
they were until he should return; or, should anything prevent his 
returning that night, they must seek him in the morning at Sychar. 
He then left them, and bent his way towards the well. 

As soon as Jesus had left his followers, Peter whispered to Judas so 
that John should not hear a word that was said: 

"Has our master any idea of the intended fate of poor John the 
Baptist?" 

"No," replied Judas in a similar manner, "he knows nothing of the 
plot that has been devised for his old companion. It will grieve him 
sorely when he finds it out, for he loves his old friend, although he 
knows him to be a crazy zealot." 

"When did Cosbi arrive with the letter that Saul wrote in the name 
of the High Priest? " demanded Peter. 

"He arrived four days ago," answered Judas. "He gained admit- 
tance to Herod's presence, and delivered it into his hands. The Tetrach 
was much surprised at its contents, but said it should be attended to, 
and that he must wait to carry back an answer. Since then, John has 
been transferred from the fortress of Mareschaeus to the prison at Sychar, 
where he arrived yesterday, and Cosbi has received intimation that he 
must prepare to depart to-morrow ; so it is very likely that poor John 
will be executed in the morning." 

"Ah ! " exclaimed Peter ; " then Jesus has arrived just in time to take 
a last farewell of his old companion, if he can get to see him." 

"John the Baptist will be the first man that Saul will make away 
with, to accomplish his ends," observed Judas with a shudder. 

They then said no more, but resigned themselves to sleep. 

Jesus had been sitting on the edge of Jacob's well for several minutes, 
reflecting upon past scenes and times concerning his and John the 
Baptists' career when they were fellow students and companions ; he 
traced John's history from his most early days, and continued it up to 
that time when he was languishing in prison, and he could not help 
giving vent to a deep sigh when he thought of the probable future 
termination of his career. While he was in this thoughtful mood, a 
tall figure enveloped in a mantle softly approached him, and said in a 
low voice : 

"Art thou the man who wishes to see John the prisoner?" 

Jesus started, but readily conceiving the business of the visitor, mado 
answer : 

"lam." 

" r jphen follow me," was the reply. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH, 197 

And the person, without giving other explanation or showing his 
countenance, turned in the direction of Sychar ; pursuing the path with 
a quiet, stealthy step, and Jesus followed in a similar manner. The 
night was dark, with the excejjtion of the light emitted by the stars ; 
Mount Gerizim gloomed in the south-west, and the town of Sychar 
could not be distinguished before them except by the twinkle of a light 
here and there. 

After a few minutes walking, they arrived before a large wooden 
gate which was closed; but on one side of it there was a narrow 
opening, before which stood a sentinel leaning upon a spear, who 
immediately upon their approach, demanded the password. The guide 
then advanced and whispered something, when the sentinel stood aside 
allowing them to pass. With the same noiseless steps they passed 
along the main thoroughfare for some hundred feet without meeting any 
body, then they turned into a more narrow one, and in a short time 
came to a large stone edifice, in front of which were pillars of great 
magnificence. Passing along this they came to an enclosure, when the 
guide opening a small door, entered a garden ; and having traversed 
some of the walks, they came to the rear of the building, which was 
the palace of Herod ; in the lower part of which, the prison for par- 
ticular offenders was situated. Entering a small door, they came to a 
passage which led them to another door ; which, on being opened, they 
entered a chamber, where Jesus saw the Samaritan woman with whom 
he had discoursed at the well. 

The guide then threw off his mantle in which he was enveloped, and 
presented the appearance of a man of middle age, with an agreeable 
countenance. 

"Husband, this is the good man I have been speaking to thee about," 
said the woman, with great pleasure lightening up her countenance. 

"I know not who thou art," said the custodian addressing Jesus, "or 
what is thy object in wishing to see the prisoner John, unless it be the 
promptings of humanity and friendship, which I admire in those who 
seek an interest in the unfortunate. But my wife having spoken in 
great favour of thee as a good man, T have consented to comply with 
thy wishes, and run the risk of the consequences. Thou wilt therefore 
be prudent and not put me in danger." 

Jesus commended the custodian for his kind feelings, thanked him 
for his good opinion, and spoke in great praise of his wife, acknow- 
ledging her services. Then, the custodian taking a lamp, bid Jesus 
follow him. They left the room by another door that opened into a 
corridor, along which they passed for some distance until they came 
to a wide flight of steps, down which they descended to another corridor 
— on either side of which was a range of cells with massive wooden 
doors, fastened with bars of iron crossing them. Having come to a 
particular door, the custodian removed the bars, opened it and entered 
the cell, followed by Jesus. 

For the first few moments, nothing was visible in the gloomy chain- 
ber; but gradually the outlines of things began to impress the sight 
It was a small rectangular chamber, as though cut out of solid rook, so 
close and firm were the blocks of stone cemented together. There was a 



198 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

bed of straw in one corner, and a vessel containing water, which were all 
the conveniences of the unhappy inmate. There was a hole in the 
upper part of the wall to admit air, but no means of obtaining light. 
In the centre of the floor, seated on a block of wood, was an object 
bearing the human form, to which the custodian pointed as he observed: 
"Behold thy friend." Then he placed the lamp upon the floor and left 
the cell. 

The light from the lamp was too powerful for the eyes of the prisoner 
at first, for he shaded them with his hands and admitted it gradually ; 
then turning his sight towards the visitor, he endeavoured to ascertain 
who it was. The long dark hair and beard of the prisoner was tangled 
and matted, scattering around in the greatest disorder; his eyes were 
sunken in their sockets, and nearly lustreless ; his cheeks were hollow ; 
his whole form wasted, and his garments dirty and tattered: — altogether 
he was a miserable object of tyrannical oppression. 

Jesus regarded the unfortunate man for the first few moments in 
silence, for he was so overcome with painful emotions that he could 
not speak ; but at length recovering his powers, he exclaimed in a tone 
of the deepest anguish : 

" O John ! John ! is it thus I see thee? " 

John the Baptist sprang to his feet uttering a shout of joy; then 
raising and clasping his hands above him, he ejaculated : 

"My God, I thank thee! I said he would come, — I knew I was not 
deceived!" 

Then Jesus rushed forward and fell upon John's neck, but spoke not. 

" Shed not tears for me, my lord and master," said John in a tremu- 
lous voice, as he endeavoured to disengage himself from the embrace 
of Jesus. "It is not for thou to expend the essence of thy virtue upon 
a poor sinner such as I am. Thy presence is glory enough for me, let 
thy tears be reserved for others more worthy. Yet, master, glad am I 
that thou art come, for this imprisonment bears sorely upon me : I fain 
would be released from this dungeon, to go upon the world once more, 
- — not that I love the world, but I love to do my duty to thee, and fuliil 
the words of the Prophets, by proclaiming thy name and office to the 
lost people of Israel." 

"John! John!" exclaimed Jesus, as he retreated a few steps from 
the prisoner, "let me hear no more of this strain of talking. I should 
have thought that thy misfortunes would have banished thy former 
delusions of mind. O John ! how I have reasoned with thee — entreated 
thee— and even begged of thee to banish these foolish ideas ! Plow, by 
my arguments — by showing thee my deficiencies and lack of all ne- 
cessary powers, have I endeavoured to convince thee of thy error, in 
conceiving me to be what I am not. But all my endeavours to bring 
thee to right reason have proven in vain, for thy mind is still under the 
same delusion." |; 

"Is it possible!" exclaimed John, as he started back a pace with the 
greatest alarm expressed upon his haggard countenance, "is it possible 
that I have been under a delusion? Art thou really not the Messiah I 
come to release me from this prison? " / 

"Have I not always denied being such, and thou wouldst not believe [ 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 199 

me?" answered Jesus — "how, then, can I convince thee? Thou know- 
est that I have always loved thee, and would do anything that I could 
for thy benefit. If it were in my power, would I not release from 
prison the man I love?" 

John seemed to be struck with a new idea, for the glance of his eye 
became expressive of more rational and serious thought. He remained 
silent for a few moments, but at length said impressively: 

" Then thou canst not release me from this prison? " 

"No, John," replied Jesus sorrowfully, who perceived that he began 
to make an impression of the truth upon the weak mind of the un- 
fortunate man, "it is impossible: if I could, I would. Ought that not 
to convince thee that I am not what thou hast thought me to be for so 
. many years?" 

* Great God ! have pity on me, for I am a miserable man ! " exclaimed 
John in a tone expressive of utter despair and a conviction of his true 
standing. "I now perceive that my life has been one of complete 
delusion." 

Then the miserable man threw himself upon the block of wood, 
covering his face with his hands, a picture of hopeless despair. 

"John," said Jesus in a tremulous tone, "sorry am I that this per- 
ception of thy error has come so late. Thou canst not blame me for 
thy delusion, although I have been the innocent cause. From the very 
first hour when that mysterious power was discovered in me, upon 
which thou didst conceive thy delusive idea, did I not deny and oppose 
all thy erroneous suggestions? Was it not the means of discontinuing 
our youthful friendly intercourse, because thou wouldst not be con- 
vinced of my reasons and denial, but still adhered to thy errors? It is 
true that I could not account for the power I found in me ; yet I had 
sufficient knowledge to be convinced that it could not be as thou didst 
endeavour to persuade me. Since we were youthful companions, I 
have been enabled to learn something concerning it, — enough to know 
that it is a natural power, and not superhuman, as thou didst think it 
to be. Like all other natural principles, it is beyond our search to 
ascertain its true nature; yet, though we cannot account for it, it is 
nevertheless natural : the great cause of this delusion of thine has been 
in the nature of thy studies. The dark, gloomy train of superstition 
which the Priesthood prescribed for thee, had the power to weaken thy 
reasoning faculty, and prevent thee from acquiring just and wholesome 
ideas of things ; therefore when thou didst see this extraordinary power 
of mine, thy superstition availed itself of the opportunity to confirm 
and exemplify its doctrines." 

"Say no more, my dear Josey said John the Baptist, as he withdrew 
his hands from his face and looked up to Jesus witli a sorrowful mien. 
" I must still call thee by that name, now my delusion is post. That 
name brings to my mind the fond reminiscences of our youthuil friend- 
ship, and the many pleasing incidents of our happy young days. That 
name is suggestive of all that is innocent and blissful in my youthful 
career; while the name of Jesus, that I gave thee at thy baptism, 
suggests only my folly and madness. Say no more, JosC\ to justify 
thyself being free of blame in this matter— I know thou art blamel- 



200 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

Thou didst all thou couldst to arrest and exterminate my outrageous 
folly; but, as thou sayest, my mind must have been weakened before 
the time of thy mysterious power became manifest, or I could not 
have been so egregiously deluded by my own erroneous notions. It 
matters not now, however, there will soon be an end to my regret and 
sorrow — for I have a presentiment that I shall not be many hours 
among the living. I have lived a life of self-delusion, it will, therefore, 
be better that I go down to the grave without sorrow, regret, or notice 
of the world." 

Any further discourse between the two friends was prevented by the 
custodian rushing into the cell, with alarm depicted on his countenance, 
who said hurriedly : 

" My friends, you must part instantly. O, John the Baptist ! pardon 
me for making the announcement, for I must do my official duty, — 
there is an order received that John the Baptist be executed at the 
hour of six." 

"Executed!" exclaimed Jesus in terror, as he staggered to the wall 
and leaned against it for support. 

John raised his eyes and clasped his hands, and then ejaculated in a 
tone of great solemnity : 

" Then indeed is the delusion of this world over, and the reality of 
the next begins." 

"Come, Sir," said the custodian to Jesus, taking him by the arm, 
" not another minute must thou tarry — we must away from the city 
before the guard comes around." 

Urged by the custodian, Jesus left the wall and instantly threw him- 
self upon the neck of John ; their embraces were in sorrow and tears — 
a farewell was faintly expressed, when Jesus tore himself away. 

In a few minutes the custodian had conducted Jesus without the 
walls of Sychar, when the latter made his way to his followers whom 
he found asleep. Jesus then sat up the remainder of the night, lament- 
ing and weeping over the fate of his old friend and youthful companion, 
John the Baptist. When morning broke, he awoke his followers and 
related to them the adventures of the night : all of whom gave evidence 
of great sorrow, — especially Peter, who was obliged to resort to the goat 
skin bottle to supply his waste of tears. However, they prepared to 
depart on their route through Galilee; and as they were passing by 
Sychar, they learned that John the Baptist was executed in the middle 
of the night. 



COMMUNICATION NINETEENTH. 

Now the Spirit Saul, from the quantity of diverse matters which he 
wished to impart, could not impress me in the manner of vision; 
but through the clairaudient perception the intelligence conveyed 
in tones impressively distinct, as he thus addressed me. 

"Friend Alexander: from the nature of the intelligence which now 
I wish to impart to you— the numerous and disconnected parts contained 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 201 

therein, I find it surpasses my ingenuity and skill to convey it to you 
in form of a vision ; therefore I shall be constrained to use the mode of 
simple address or relation. I shall so endeavour to impress your mind 
that you may re-commit it to paper from your memory. To relate all 
the travels and adventures of Jesus and his followers in detail would 
be very difficult, even if it were possible to gather all the accounts from 
the Spirits who were concerned therein when mortals on the earth ; but 
as Judas has informed me, there was a great sameness or similarity in 
them, I shall not impose so heavy a task upon you, even if I were able 
to do so. I shall, therefore, speak of them as a whole — with the excep- 
tion of the scenes and events, with which I have already impressed you 
— during his several tours through Judea and Galilee ; and I shall then 
re-commence my mode of impressing you by visions with regard to the 
remainder of his career, where he returns to the vicinity of Jerusalem 
for the last time. 

"Throughout the numerous towns, villages and country places where 
Jesus passed, he made a great impression upon the people, for he was 
generally well received by them. Even in places where his fame had 
not reached, his noble, manly appearance and amiable manners macta 
an agreeable impression,* before he broached any of his doctrines. 
However suspicious they were at first, or whatever antipathies they 
took to his followers, they had no doubt of his being an intelligent and 
good man. His most numerous admirers and adherents were among 
the poor, for he spoke to them in gentle and affable terms — he sympa- 
thized with them in their afflictions and calamities — he pointed out in 
a mild manner the irrationality and injurious consequences of vice — ho 
cured some of their diseases, and he relieved others— he taught them 
how to live a virtuous life, — and with the greatest of patience and in 
the simplest manner did he endeavour to enlighten them upon their 
own nature, the existence of their souls, and the existence of a true God. 

"With the wealthy, he was not so successful; he did not pamper 
their vanities : he did not flatter them, or bow obsequiously to them: 
he did not approve of their ambitious schemes or pride of rank, — but 
he made war upon all those things on which they chose to exalt them- 
selves. Although he did not make many converts among them, yet 
they treated him with general respect. 

"The Roman officers treated him with marked respect, for they saw 
that he was a superior man to the generality of the Judean people. 
They compared his ideas with those of the Roman and Grecian phi- 
losophers, and found that in his, there was a great similarity with their 
best philosophy. The only enemies he encountered during his travels 
were the Priesthood, and others under their influence. We wil] not 
include in this notice, his great enemy, who was myself, with Judas 
my confederate; for the henious nature of our deeds an 4 partly known 
to you, and the remainder will be given elsewhere, lint the Priesthood 
saw that if the doctrines and influence of Jesus extended over the 
country, the temple, the altar, and even the mitre of the High Priest 
were all doomed to destruction; consequently, they were his declared 
enemies. The Priesthood would have doomed him to destruction Long 
before they did, had not I thought it necessary to achieve my ends, to 



202 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

allow Jesus to run a longer career. As it was, the Priesthood gave 
Jesus all the annoyance, insult, and petty injuries they could. 

"The conduct and doctrines of Jesus were incapable of making 
enemies, from their incapacity of doing evil. His demeanor was so 
amiable and just, that neither friends nor foes could feel injured by it, 
and his doctrines were productive of nothing but good results to all 
those who adhered to them. How, then, came he to have enemies? 
His enemies were only those whose ambitions and interests were sus- 
tained by the follies and corruptions of society. None others were his 
enemies, and none others sought to do him an evil. Strange as it may 
seem, it is no less the truth — his greatest enemies were his two greatest 
admirers, Saul and Judas. I, Saul, considered Jesus as the model of a 
noble man ; but my heart being callous and my mind remorseless, I 
chose to sacrifice him to my insane ambition. But Judas not only 
admired him as the most amiable and virtuous of men, but he had a 
feeling of pity, when he reflected how Jesus was surrounded and en- 
meshed by a set of sordid, ambitious wretches ; and he wept tears 
of agony when he reflected upon his own conduct towards him, even 
previous to his final act of treachery. 

"The physical or scientific knowledge of Jesus was very limited, — 
yet he knew as much as any who made pretensions to learning, and 
more than the generality of men. There was very little scientific in- 
vestigation in his days : whatever little was known of the phenomena 
of nature, was acquired through common experience, and that little 
was kept a secret from the people, instead of being used to their en- 
lightenment. The secrets of nature were taught in the colleges of the 
Egyptians, and some others under the awful name of magic, as some- 
thing emanating from supernal sources. Now, as Jesus travelled 
abroad in his youth to acquire knowledge, it is reasonable to suppose 
that he acquired a portion, at least, of what the colleges taught. It is 
evident that he had learned some true ideas of the solar system, — he 
knew that the stars and planets were worlds similar to the earth, and 
that these bodies with the sun did not revolve around the earth ; but 
the ignorance and prejudice of the people were so great, he dared not 
declare it to be so. So it was with many other subjects of which he 
had a true knowledge. He did not declare them to the people, for if he 
had done so, he would have appeared in their eyes as a magician in- 
stead of a moral teacher. It was in the moral sentiment that the 
strength, the beauty and wisdom of his knowledge existed. In this 
respect he was preeminent ; in this he was powerful ; in this he exempli- 
fied all the beauty, greatness and virtue of his short career. His ex- 
perience and studies gave him a knowledge of the conditions of the 
people and the state of their minds. His intuitive ideas gave him the 
power to reform those conditions, and suggest others for the benefit of 
mankind at large, which if conformed to, would have produced a state 
of happiness on earth, and a prospect of future bliss. What is there more 
beautiful — more just — more rational — more in accordance with nature, 
and more beneficial to mankind than the ten classes of duties he gave 
to the people, in his address at the foot of the mountain at Genesareth? 
There is nothing that can be produced in the form of a code of morals, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 203 

so comprehensive and yet so compact. There is nothing to be dispensed 
with, and nothing lacking: every form of duty which is capable and 
necessary to render a people happy is embraced in it ; and every thing 
superfluous, austere, cjjjiical, or in anywise opposed to the developement 
of our true natures, is excluded from it ; therefore it may be said that 
his moral obligations are the best ever devised hy man. 

" Jesus not only gave to the people the most complete code of morals, 
but he gave them the most sublime and exalted ideas of man's inward 
self. He gave glimpses of the nature of the soul, and of the Great God 
of the universe, not such as is taught in the Jewish theogony under the 
name of Jehovah. He taught that the soul of man is a refined material 
element — an ever active essence of immortal existence, and that it 
originally was an emanation from the Great God, or active principle of 
life, — that in its original nature it is pure, and by its alliance with 
grosser matter in the form of organized beings, it is capable of con- 
tinuing pure, and becoming improved if we live in conformity with 
the principles of nature. That a man living a strictly good moral life 
his spirit or soul will continue to expand and improve during his life ; 
at the termination of which, it will be enabled to shake off this material 
body, and continue its existence in another state more suitable to its 
nature, where it will continue to enjoy unspeakable bliss in pursuing 
its onward progress. But should a man live a demoralized, wicked 
life, then his soul becomes impure by the predominating influence 
of grosser matter; then its original nature dies out, when he sinks 
down to a level, or below the inferior animals. Then at the termi- 
nation of that man's earthly existence, his soul is too dense and grossly 
material to be enabled to ascend to that retined state of, future existence 
where the virtuous and intelligent are alone allowed to go. 

"This doctrine of Jesus, though not exactly true as regards the 
Spiritual World, was calculated to lead men in the right direction to 
obtain that desired future existence, and to make them eminently 
happy while on earth. That he was a true believer in the doctrines 
he taught, there is no reason to doubt; for all his conduct through life 
confirms his sincerity. He looked not to anything upon earth to re- 
ward him for his toils and sacrifices, in the endeavour to improve his 
fellow men. Nothing beyond the gratification of his own conscience 
did he desire, to repay him for the loss of time, the expenditure of his 
small fortune, the anxiety, care and study he made for man's welfare. 
He coveted not gold, silver, lands, rents or titles, for he saw nothing in 
this world worthy of acceptance. His eyes were cast on the future 
state, where he anticipated a home and a condition suitable to his re- 
fined and exalted nature. 

" By these doctrines Jesus did immense benefit for man during his 
time, in awakening them to a knowledge of their low condition; and 
had it not been for his enemies in cutting short his career, mankind 
would have greatly improved from that date; but by the unaccountable 
changes in the destiny of man, evil predominated over good in hi- c a> ■■. 
Soon after his death, his sublime doctrines were either lo>t or perverted, 
and others silly and vicious substituted in their place, Bifl healing 
powers and achievements were converted into absurd, lying accounts 



204 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

under the name of miracles, and his history into a compilation of fables. 
Instead of being represented what he really was, — as a handsome, 
generous, amiable, intelligent man — he has been converted into a myth 
of an unnatural and impossible origin, of doubtful existence and nature 
- — with such a termination to his career that it casts a diabolical and 
blasphemous slur upon the God of our existence. 

"But what were his followers? If we can view Jesus in the light 
of one who was the model of true and noble manhood, — when we 
contemplate the traits of character of his followers, called his 'apostles,' 
we may reverse the picture, and then we shall view them as a set of 
the most contemptible, ignorant, sordid knaves and traitors that ever 
lived to hatch knavery and treason on the earth. With the exception 
of Judas, every one of them had the most sordid motive of interest in 
attaching himself to Jesus. Judas was a traitor it is true, yet he was 
a man of noble sentiment and fine feeling in comparison to the rest. 
Though he was under the necessity of performing the part he did by 
the manner in which I, Saul, coerced him, yet he was a great admirer 
of Jesus as a teacher and a man. Could Judas have been a free man 
in action, there is reason to believe that he would have been the only 
sincere admirer and friend among the followers of Jesus. What were 
the motives of the two sons of Zebedee, John and James? They 
thought that Jesus was going to obtain great temporal power — to become 
a king, and they felt a sneaking inclination to become princes ; so they 
attached themselves to Jesus, hoping that they should realize their 
wishes when their master should arrive at his temporal eminence. 
Peter's motives were of the same nature, and he lived to realize them 
in part. His object was to become a great man somehow, as Judas 
persuaded him he could be if he followed his directions. His object 
was to become the governor of a province, if possible, and if not, to 
wait for the death of Jesus, when he was to become one of the heads of 
the new sect that was founded after Jesus' death ; this he lived to see 
accomplished. Andrew was under the guidance of bis brother Peter ; 
for the latter made it appear to his interest to follow Jesus. His mind 
being of a very low cast, he was obliged to act a subordinate part to 
his brother. All the rest were only followers in name, for they seldom 
accompanied him on any of his travels, nor did they take any part in 
the direction of affairs. Whenever Jesus visited a place where they 
were, they came to him, and in his absence undertook to repeat some 
of hi3 sayings, which they soon converted into absurdities and non- 
sense. Some of those followers went so far as to pretend to cure 
diseases by their touch, and got whatever fees they could from the 
silly believers ; besides, they were continually begging all they could 
get, from all persons on whom the presence and doctrines of Jesus had 
made any impression. Thus these low, sordid minded creatures, 
calling themselves the followers of Jesus, cared nothing about him 
more than to make him the means of gratifying their sordid interest. 
But the time at length arrived when these disinterested followers began 
to be tired of following their master, and of their pretended affection 
for him. Jesus having travelled over the greater part of Judea, Galilee 
and the countries east of the mountains, his followers perceived thai 
\ 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 205 

there were no greater prospects of his being made king than in the 
commencement, and that they were no further advanced than they 
were at first. They then began to perceive that there was delusion 
somewhere, but they could not charge it upon Jesus, for he had never 
held out any prospects of the kind to them ; they therefore became 
dispirited and discontented, and much grumbling and mutual accusa- 
tion took place among them. At length Judas received orders from 
me, Saul, that he should persuade Jesus to return to Jerusalem as soon 
as possible, for it was decided among the conspirators that they would 
bring their conspiracy to a close. Jesus at length gave orders to return 
to the city, when the followers determined to assemble all their mem- 
bers at some place before they entered Jerusalem, to consult and have 
an understanding what were to be their future prospects. They accord- 
ingly agreed upon Bethphage as the most convenient spot. 

"It was now about two and a half years since Jesus first started on 
his tour of teaching the people, in which his fame as a wise man and 
healer of the sick had extended over all Judea and Galilee, besides into 
the borders of the neighbouring countries. The multitude in general 
considered his cures as so many miracles, as Judas and Peter had taken 
pains to represent them; but the more thinking part of the community 
did not give credence to all they heard, but at the same time were con- 
vinced that he did great good. It would be impossible to estimate the 
number of his disciples, or those who admired and determined to ad- 
here to his doctrines. There was scarcely a town or village where there 
were none, and in some places the greater part of the people were with 
him. The disciples of every town, village or country hamlet assemble 1 
to communicate and discuss with each other, what they had heard 
and seen concerning the great man; and in some places his doctrines 
or parts of them were committed to writing, and some who could read 
were appointed to read them every time they met. Thus, by this time 
the seeds were sown, which promised a great gain for the future revolu- 
tion in the minds of men. I, Saul, was aware of all this, so I determined 
to be the first to gather in the harvest. But I saw before I could make 
sure of this rich gathering, that the man that sowed the seed must be 
removed, so that he could not interfere and defeat my designs. I then 
determined to proceed to action; to destroy Jesus was my next inten- 
tion: and how far I accomplished my design, the sequel of events as I 
am about to relate will make known. 

" Jesus and his followers at length arrived at Bethphage, a small 
town a few miles from Jerusalem. The party put up at the public inn, 
but there was a room provided elsewhere, where the followers de- 
termined to hold a council in secret. Early on the next day, before 
Jesus had risen, the party met in council. There were present Ju 
Peter, John, James and Andrew, besides others who were only nomi- 
nal followers, among whom were old Nathaniel and Thomas. At tirst 
there was a conversation in a low tone of voice, which grew louder ami 
louder as it lengthened; the workings of their harsh, repulsive tear. 
— the motions of their beards, and their violent gestures betokened that 
there was much anger and contention among them. Some outburst »>t* 
laughter, accompanied with comical and sarcastic Leers at each other, 

I 



206 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

indicated that jeers and jokes were passing at the expense of each 
other's mortification. Most of the attacks seemed to be made upon 
Judas, who, instead of making any angry return, rebutted them with 
some observation or stroke of wit that produced a general laughter. 
After a while there was a little order restored, when Judas proceeded 
to address them : 

'"Conie my fellow laborers and disinterested followers of our mas- 
ter,' said Judas ironically, - let me hear what are your complaints, and 
according to the soreness of them and their long standing, I will judge 
and treat them according to the best of my skill and the help of the 
money bag. Come Peter, be thou the first to speak ; let me hear what 
are thy complaints.' 

'" Master Judas,' said Peter in a half grumbling tone of voice, 'I 
have always considered thee, next to our master, my superior, and I 
must say thou hast been kind to me in words, and very liberal in pro- 
mises as to what shall be done for me; but thou knowest, worthy 
Judas, promises will not catch fish nor fill the goat skin bottle with 
wine, and as yet, I find they have proved of no more benefit to me. 
Here I am with no more money in my girdle then when I left Beth- 
saida. Ever since I left off being fisherman and turned to be a fisher- 
of-men, I find after all my toils that I am not so well off. It is true we 
catch plenty of men in our new calling, but our master profits nothing 
by such a mode of fishing — he lets them all go again, without making 
anything of them. He gains no money, no houses, lands or titles, and 
I see no prospects of his becoming king. What chance is there, then, 
for me in becoming the governor of a province? I want to know that.' 

"'My dear Peter,' replied Judas in a conciliatory tone of voice, and 
with a mischievous twinkle of his eye, 'thy complaint is just and 
reasonable ; our master shall be duly informed of it, and no doubt, as 
soon as he arrives at his Kingly inheritance, one of the first acts he will 
do will be to issue an edict appointing thee a governor of a goodly 
Province.' 

"There was a general laugh at Judas' response, when Peter sat down 
muttering that he had enough of promises. 

"'Come, blue-eyed John,' said Judas, addressing the son of Zebedee, 
'what complaint hast thou to make of me or thy worthy master? Is it 
that we cannot appreciate thy poetical genius?' 

'"No, Judas, nothing of the sort,' responded John in a shrill, child- 
like voice; 'I nave no complaint to make, but I wish for an under- 
standing. That John the Baptist told me our master was the Messiah, 
and that he would certainly reign overall Judea; he then persuaded 
me to join Jesus. I did so — thinking that as I was the first to join him, 
I should be the first in his favour when he should become King. Now 
I really believe that John the Baptist has deceived me, or was mis- 
taken.' 

'"Very likely,' remarked Judas, as he regarded John with a comical 
leer, 'John the Baptist's brains were rather out of order, so Herod 
Antipas cut his head off to cure him ; since then he has not made any 
mistakes of that sort. So thou must forgive him.' 

"'But mark me, Judas,' resumed John, 'thou didst seem to persuade 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 207 

me that all that John the Baptist said was right, and thou didst intimate 
that when Jesus should become King, I should become a Prince of the 
first condition, and that my brother James should be the General of the 
armies. Now I wish to know if this is to be, for I am getting tired of 
waiting.' 

"'It is very possible, my dear John,' replied Judas, with mock 
seriousness, ' that our Master may not be King of Judea, but he will be 
Emperor of the whole eastern world. This will take place as soon as 
he can make it convenient ; he will then be enabled to make thee not 
only a Prince, but a King, my dear John.' 

" There was another general laugh by the company, when John sat 
down, rather puzzled to know in what light to view the answer of Judas. 

"Many others made complaint that they had been deceived in their 
expectations when they joined Jesus, stating that they followed him so 
long and had rendered him such and such services, and nothing had 
they obtained, excepting what they begged or got as fees of introduction. 
They ended by saying they must have wages, and that Judas must inti- 
mate the same to their master. Judas endeavored to pacify them, but he 
failed to do so. They became more angry, raising their voices, making 
threats and taunts, until there became a general confusion and din. At 
this critical state of affairs, Jesus made his appearance at the doorway, 
and looked around the company with seeming astonishment. All the 
grumblers immediately slank into their seats, in the greatest of dismay, 
and all became in a few moments quite still. 

" Jesus, regarding Judas with an inquiring look mingled with a degree 
of wonder, at length said, 

"' Judas, what means this scene of tumult and discord that I have 
just witnessed? ' 

" Judas, as well as the rest,* was taken by surprise at the unexpected 
appearance of Jesus ; he consequently was much ashamed and confused 
that the latter should have been witness to so disgraceful a scene, he 
therefore remained silent for a little while, reflecting upon what answer 
he should give to his Masters question. He saw clearly that it would 
not do to break up the company of followers at that particular time, as 
their services could not be dispensed with in accomplishing the designs 
of Saul and his own interests. He knew, also, if he were to represent 
their gross selfishness in its true light, Jesus would be apt to dispense 
with their attendance. He, therefore, thought it best to palliate their 
conduct and make it appear as little disgusting and offensive as possible, 
so as not to irritate Jesus against them — at the same time he thought 
something must be done to satisfy them for the present. All th- 
passed through his mind in a very short time, when he resolved what 
answer to give. 

" ' Worthy Master,' replied Judas, in a lively voice and with a smiling 
countenance, *thou hast taken us by surprise in a small matter of 
private contention, yet it is not of so much consequence aa thou ma\ 
imagine. It is simply this, our worthy brethren in the good cause have 
been thoughtlessly neglected by me, in not considering their Qeoeaaary 
domestic wants — and they having met in council, came to the resolve to 
bring the matter before me, knowing that I command the money bag. 



208 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

They say their garments are become tattered and poor, and some of their 
families are in need of necessaries. As they came upon me all at once, 
it caused a little contention and display of warmth of temper, which 
could have been avoided if I had had time to examine them. I therefore 
propose, worthy Master, with thy permission, that our brethren's wants 
be supplied from the bag.' 

" This mitigated representation of the tumultuous scene, gave more 
satisfaction to Jesus than he expected. He thought it right and 
reasonable that his followers should expect their necessary wants to be 
supplied ; therefore, if there was blame to be attached to any one, it 
ought to be to Judas, for neglecting their wants — so Jesus was glad the 
matter was no worse. 

4 'The brethren were very much pleased with the manner Judas had 
brought the matter to the notice of their Master, taking all the blame to 
himself and saving an exposure of their selfishness. It also gave them 
a prospect of sharing the contents of the money bag. 

" ' How much money is there in the bag, Judas? ' inquired Jesus. 

" ' There is about one hundred and fifty shekels of silver, my Master,' 
replied Judas. 

" ' Indeed ! ' exclaimed Jesus, who had no idea that there was so much 
money in the whole company. ' Then let every man have ten shekels — 
but before thou doest it, I will speak to the brethren.' 

" This decision of Jesus filled the hearts of his loving followers with 
delight, more so than if he had given them a thousand lectures on the 
value of time and the philosphy of their enriching themselves by cur- 
tailing their wants. Their eyes glistened with pleasure, and their 
fingers were quite restless, feeling an instinctive desire to clutch the 
money, but they managed to put a sober restraint upon themselves while 
their master was addressing them. Then, everything being satis- 
factorily settled and order restored, Jesus spoke as follows : 

" i My brethren, in my former discourses, I have apprised you that it 
is a duty we owe to ourselves, to seek after our daily necessities ; at 
present I iterate the same injunction. But when we do so, my brethren, 
we ought to be careful that we border our desires by our necessities, 
and take heed that we do not become covetous after this world's wealth, 
for it is one of the greatest evils we shall encounter to the progression of 
our spiritual welfare, if we allow our hearts and souls to be devoted to 
mammon. I do not say this as a matter of moral opinion, built upon a 
slight foundation, but I speak of it as a great fact, founded upon the 
experience of the world. A man whose heart and soul is devoted to the 
acquisition of worldly wealth, cannot progress in the scale of spiritual 
refinement and exaltation. He has no time or opportunities to think of 
the nature of his soul ; he has no sympathies or pleasure in the measures 
required to its development, for he sees not the beauties and advantages 
attendant thereon. As the mind continually contemplates the objects 
of wealth, the soul gradually sympathizes with them, and they become 
gradually incorporated with it. The soul, then, instead of becoming 
more refined and pure, partakes of the grosser material things, and 
finally becomes tied down by them to this earth, so that it is rendered 
incapable of aspiring to a more exalted state and is forever allied to tho 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 209 

gross attractions of earth. It then becomes impossible for it buoyantly 
to rise up to the spheres of refinement and everlasting bliss, which is 
allotted to all those who live a life of purity and wisdom. Thus, I may 
say 'it is more easy for a ship's cable to go through the eye of a needle 
than for a man whose soul is devoted to mammon, to be enabled to pass 
from this earth and enter the regions of the blessed.' Let this saying be 
impressed upon your minds, my brethren, and henceforth profit in 
spiritual wisdom from my present discourse.' 

" When Jesus had ended his short address, a messenger from Bethany 
delivered a message to him and then retired. Then Jesus announced to 
1 his brethren that his friend Lazarus was sick, and his family requested 
the immediate attendance of Jesus ; all who choose to follow him to 
' Bethany might do so. Then Judas and the brethren hastily divided the 
I contents of the money bag ; when having made all other necessary pre- 
parations, they took their departure with Jesus, for Bethany.' 



VISION TWENTIETH. 

The /Spirits, their mysterious powers renewed: — before ray mental gaze 
the scene of Bethany was depicted, with incidents strange and 
marvellous, which are here related. 

The sun was descending behind Mount Olivet, when Jesus and his 
followers, or part of them, were travelling on the ridge path and 
approaching the village of Bethany. As they were entering the skirt of 
the village, a female covered with a veil, ran towards them, who was 
Martha, the elder daughter of Lazarus. With tears streaming from her 
eyes and her countenance expressive of sorrow, she stopped before Jesus, 
and for a few moments remained silent, for her grief prevented her 
giving utterance to speech. Jesus approached her and kissing her upon 
the forehead, said — 
"Why this sorrow, dear sister? " 

Martha at length, in a voice of distress, managed to answer, 
44 O, brother ! dearest brother ! Our father, Lazarus, is dead ! " 
44 Dead!" exclaimed Jesus in astonishment, and then he clasped his 
hands and uplifted his eyes, as though uttering a secret prayer. The 
remembrance of his friendship, and all the fond relations connected with 
his kind old friend, rushed upon his mind and a tear of affectionate re- 
gret trickled down his cheek. And many were the painful emotions ho 
felt at his loss. 

Motioning to Martha and his followers to preceed him, ho waited 
behind a few minutes to compose himself, and then he followed them. 
On entering the chamber of mourning, Jesus saw that there were many 
of the neighbours and several strangers from the Holy City, among the 
latter were two Rabbjs. who had come to administer consolation to tho 
orphan daughters. The visitors wero seated around the chamber on 
14 



210 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

cushions, and the lifeless Lazarus was outstretched on a bier in the 
centre. The corpse was enveloped in white linen, with a hand passing 
around his under jaw and over his head, and a large purple cloth thrown 
over him. 

As soon as Jesus entered the room there was great commotion among 
the mourners, but all persons kept their seats excepting Mary, who rose 
and approached the former. Throwing herself upon his neck she burst 
into tears, and as soon as her sobs would allow her, she said — 

"O, my beloved! hadst thou been here my father would not have 
died!" 

Jesus, gently pressing the fond maiden to his breast, in whispering 
words of sweet condolence, endeavoured to console her, and after a few 
minutes delayed in the expression of his sympathy, he led her to her 
seat. Then Jesus advanced to the bier, when, removing the cloth from 
the features of the corpse, he regarded it with great earnestness for some 
minutes. 

The settled features of the deceased seemed to have an expression of 
great ease and resignation. The flesh seemed to be without that clammy 
moisture peculiar to the dead, nor was there any unpleasant odour 
arising from it ; there was no appearance of exhaustion, and a degree of 
freshness seemed to pervade it, as though it were a person in a tranquil 
sleep. 

Jesus placed himself at the foot of the bier, then clasping his hands 
and uplifting his eyes, he exclaimed, in a plaintive tone with most thrill- 
ing pathos — 

" O, Lazarus ! Lazarus ! My much beloved friend ! hast thou departed 
from us and become released from thy mortal tenement of clay ? Dost 
thou hover in the spirit form on the verge of this terrestrial sphere, look- 
ing upon us with glances of love and sympathy? Mutual love was the 
tie by which thou wert united to us in heart, when on earth — still that 
love exists, though thy presence has departed from us, and when the 
time shall come for us to leave this mortal state, it shall again unite us. 
O, Lazarus ! thou wert a kind father ; a good neighbour, and sincere 
friend. Thy domestic virtues made all around thee happy. Thy just 
appreciation and dispensation of virtue, justice, and truth, render thee 
worthy of being exalted in the realm of Spirits. Accept then, our tears 
as pledges of our love, rather than of regret at thy departure to a better 
home." 

Having thus apostrophized the departed Lazarus, Jesus turned his 
regards to the assembled persons, and observed — 

" My friends, Lazarus, though dead in the body yet lives in the spirit. 
It is a dark, cheerless, and more than brutish idea, to think that man 
ceases at death. To entertain this idea will be to rob man of all his 
noble aspirations in this life, and make his end one of misery and regret. 
For why should man aspire to be good and noble, if there be no other 
life after we have passed through the scenes of strife in this world ? 
Where shall ho realize all his refined conceptions of beauty, grandeur, 
magnificence, fadeless love and friendship, eternal truth and justice, if 
he shall have no other world than this to develope the refined germs within 
him ? That man ceases at death is a contradiction in itself. For what 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 211 

is the living man but a portion of the divine essence of God ? If this be 
so, how can that portion of the Deity be destroyed ? Does not every- 
thing in this universe have a befitting place ? If so, where is the befitting 
place for the soul of man? It cannot be in this world, for here man's 
soul is imprisoned, restricted and thwarted in its aspirations and thirst- 
ings after righteousness. Where, then, can this soul bask in the sun- 
light of unrestricted freedom, unthwarted in its virtuous tendencies, if 
there be no other realms but this to live in? Yes, there is another life 
after this. The divine soul within us scatters abroad its seeds of love, 
truth, justice, charity and sympathy in this world, but we find it 
difficult to cultivate them here and bring them to maturity. How 
then — do they die? No; they mature in some degree here, but they 
come to perfection in the next world, and are there harvested. 
I "Man is the greatest of God's works, — not in size or bulk, but in 
( the combination of all the elements of the universe, — the wisdom 
displayed in his construction, — the quality of the materials, and /the 
exalted end to which he is destined. All these superior excellencies 
iexist in the soul of man. For what is all this extra labor, time and 

] wisdo#. expended in the construction of man ? It cannot be for this 
life, for the pure soul is never at home here. It must be, then, for 
another life to come — that one which begins when the body ceases at 
death. Then the perfect soul will receive its true inheritance; God 
will be rejoiced to see his work perfected. Then to say that man ceases 
at death, will be to rob God of the triumph and glory which belong 
to him. 

"Yes, my friends; though the mortal part of Lazarus be dead, yet 
his spirit lives. He has passed the shades of death, which is only a 
transition from this world to another of greater beauty and perfection; 
where all our pure and noble affections and desires will become realized 

J and perfected. His virtues and noble principles will buoy him up 
beyond the earth's attraction, — so that he will not be held to it longer 
tnan he chooses. Blessed be his name, and long may it live in remem- 
brance." 

I Jesus was then about to throw the paul over the head of the corpse, 
when he started back in dismay and astonishment. "Father of Hea- 
ven!" he exclaimed, and then he looked upon the corpse with an in- 

1 tensity of gaze. 

The visitors looked upon each other with astonishment and alarm / 

' not knowing what to think when they heard the exclamation of Jesus. 
Mary and Martha rushed forward to the bier, looking upon the corpse 
and then upon Jesus in an agony of suspense. In the meantime, Jesus 
was still gazing upon the corpse. At length he stretched his hand, 
touched it upon the forehead: the flesh rebounded with elasticity when 
the ringer was withdrawn. One of the eyelids quivered, and a alight 
trembling was perceived at the corners of the mouth. Then Jesus 
cried aloud : 
" Lazarus lives in the body ! He is not dead ! " 
A simultaneous cry of terror and aniazement now burst from all 

' present excepting Jesus, who instantly drew away the paul, and then 
passed his hands over the head, down the breast oi: the now resuscitating 



212 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Lazarus. Then he gave certain passes with both hands, and repeated 
them several times over that body which a few minutes before was 
considered to be an inanimate corpse, but now proved to be a living 
person, for life— human life was made manifest therein. 

At first his eyes and lips began to move with a twitching motion, then 
the mouth opened, and a deep inspiration was inhaled ; the chest heaved 
and in a few moments it sank, and the operation of the lungs were 
renewed. Then a roseate glow came into his face ; his eyes opened and 
closed again. At length, his fingers indicated that the current of life 
was restored to the extremities — a slight groan was uttered, — he opened 
his eyes, looked around, and seemed to recognize his situation All this 
time Jesus continued the waving motions of his hands, commencing 
at the head, then passing over various parts of the body, and returning 
to the head by a circular route to renew the process. All the visitors 
had gathered around the bier at a small distance from it, looking on 
with a fixed gaze, motionless, speechless and breathless ; seeming to be 
like so many statues, for they gave less manifestations of life than the 
reviving Lazarus. But as soon as Jesus perceived that Lazarus had 
opened his eyes a second time, he discontinued his manipulations, and 
taking the hand of the now living man, he gently raised him to a sitting 
posture and said : 

' ' Lazarus, my dear friend. ' ' 

Then two of the visitors supported him behind, as he seemed very 
weak ; while his two daughters taking each a hand, pressed them to 
their bosoms. 

"Thank God, he lives!" ejaculated Martha. 

"Thanks to God and our dear brother, our father lives!" said Mary, 
and she wept with joy. 

Lazarus looked around him with surprise and confusion, not being 
able to comprehend what the scene meant ; when after a few efforts at 
speaking, he said in a faint voice : 

" My dear children, have I been ill or sleeping? I know not what all 
this means." 

"Lear father, thou hast been very ill," said Mary. 

"I must have been sleeping, child, for I had a beautiful dream," 
replied Lazarus smiling. 

Restoratives and kind attention soon enabled Lazarus to converse 
freely. The evening was passed in joyous congratulations on all around. 
The visitors gradually left for their homes, while Jesus and his followers 
staid there that night. Before the morrow's sun arose, the news was 
spread all over Jerusalem, that Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead. 

Very little was known of the human system in the days of Jesus. 
Anatomy and physiology were very little known. The arterial, venous 
and nervous systems were not known at all. Psychology and its con- 
nexions with mesmeric influences were not known, or even a true idea 
of its cause suggested. All nervous and psychological affections were 
supposed to be cases where demons had got possession of the persons 
thus affected ; and when any cures were produced, as by the touch or 
manipulations of Jesus, the demon was said to be cast out, and the 
powers by which these affections were cured were not known or sus- 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 213 

pected. Jesus himself did not know anything of the nature of that 
i power he exercised over the afflicted to their beneiit. He knew that it 
I was not a supernatural gift, for he had learned that other men before 
him had possessed similar: what was the nature of it he knew not. 
Now, when a person is under that psychological state, when the mind 
i is abstracted from the senses, or when all motor power is suspended in 
the brain, it is not surprising to people of this age that people in the 
days of Jesus should think a man thus affected to be dead. There can 
be no possibility in their ignorant minds of accounting for it in any 
other way; consequently, when another man, through his superior 
power, shall bring into action the nervous power of a man thus affected, 
and restore him to his usual state of life aud vigor, that man will be 
considered to possess a supernatural power sufficiently great to cause 
the dead to rise. Thus the wonderful affair of Lazarus is accounted 
for. Lazarus was under a state of asphyzia, or suspension of the 
motor powers. The superior nervous power of Jesus being present, 
began to awaken the dormant nerves of the sick man, which by certain 
indications that Jesus perceived, caused him to suspect that life was 
not extinct. He then exercised his power over him to the full extent, 
and the result was that Lazarus was restored to himself and family. 
This view of the matter was not seen in those days, but it was more 
consonant with the peoples mind to believe that Jesus raised Lazarus 
from the dead. 



VISION TWENTY-FIRST. 

Again, the Spirits infuse their 'refined essence into the chambers of my 
mind, and with resistless sway, guide the images of thought to form 
and portray a familiar scene and its incidents. 

A vast multitude of the Jewish people were in the Court of Israel, 
and under the porticos. Those in the former were generally going 
through their religious ceremonies and prayers, and those in the Latter 
were mostly walking to and fro. There were many small groups, and 
some large collections, who seemed to be much interested in discussing 
some important matter or news. There was a great sameness in their 
dress, in form and color; though some wore more costly garments than 
others, as they were all Jews, descendents of Judah or Benjamin — for 
no other casts were admitted into this Court. 

"What thinkest thou of the late report concerning this Jesus, the 
miracle worker?" 

This was said by a tall, gaunt man in black vestments, whose staid, 
sanctimonious air denoted him to be one of the Pharisees, who was 
addressing one of two other persons; one of whom was attired in a 
black vestment, with a richly wreathed tire and embroidered girdle. 
The other was dressed in white, with a large full tire and a girdle «>f 
various colors. The two Latter being of the sect called Sadducees, and 
the last mentioned, a scribe and doctor of law 



214 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

" I know not what report thou alludest to, there are so many con- 
cerning this man," answered the Sadducee in black, as he, gave a 
contemptuous lift of his head. 

"It is reported," said the Pharisee, "that Lazarus, the tanner of 
Bethany, died yesterday morning, and in the evening Jesus made his 
appearance at the house; when, after having eulogised the deceased, 
and made some observations on the nature of death, he raised the 
corpse to life." 

"Well! I do not believe a word of it," responded the Sadducee in 
black. 

._"2sTor do I," chimed in the Doctor of law. "When a man is once 
dead, there is no bringing him to life." 

"But there were many persons present; besides, two of our Kabbis 
who were witnesses to it," observed the Pharisee. "And the Rabbis 
stated that Jesus said ' the spirit of man did not die at all ; that death 
was only a transition state, whence the spirit of man passes from this 
life to another and better one.' " 

"That makes the matter worse, and more improbable," observed the 
Doctor. "If the spirit of Lazarus passed from his body to another 
world, how did Jesus get it back? Did he go there too, after it? All 
his ideas about a future state are false; and I think, therefore, this 
report about raising Lazarus alive, must be a deception in some way. 
Lazarus could not have been dead. ' 

"The forepart of the report is quite mysterious," rejoined the Phari- 
see; "but I think his ideas about a future state are quite rational and 
worthy of praise." 

"Thou thinkest so because thou art a believer in it thyself," returned 
the Sadducee, who perceiving Jesus approaching, added: "Lo! here 
comes the very man. Let us question him, and allow him to speak for 
himself. Doctor, wilt thou question him, thou art more learned than I ?" 

"Yes, I will question him, and soon convince thee that hois but a 
shallow pretender," answered the Doctor ol law. 

As they were thus conversing, there was a great commotion among 
the people when it was seen that Jesus was approaching. They, then, 
opened a way before him as he passed, giving many demonstrations of 
respect and reverence. At length, he came near to the spot where the 
interlocutors were standing, when the Doctor placing himself directly 
in front of him, made a salutation of much reverence, and said — 

" Worthy master, I wish to exchange a word with thee, if it will meet 
thy pleasure." 

"Speak on, I will hear thee," responded Jesus in a cool, independent 
and dignified tone and manner. 

"I have been conversing with some friends," said the Doctor of law, 
" and we differ much upon a certain matter. Now I wish to submit 
the same to thee, to hear thy learned opinion." 

"What is it?" inquired Jesus. 

"A certain man died, leaving his wife a widow," observed the Doctor, 
" then, according to the law of Moses, his next of kin, a brother, mar- 
ried her. Then he died also, when the next brother of age married her 
--and so on, until seven brothers had married her, and aU died; then 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 215 

the woman died also. Now, as this woman married seven brothers, 
whose wife will she be in the next world? " 

"Dost thou think, man of folly," answered Jesus, with a smile at the 
conceit of the questioner, "that the laws of Moses govern matters with 
the Spirits of the other world? They acknowledge not the laws of 
Moses, or any other human law, though it be ever so wise, for they are 
above them all ; therefore they do not marry, neither are they given in 
marriage." 

"How then! Are the sexes in common?" inquired the Doctor. 

"They are not in common," replied Jesus. "Every Spirit has its 
particular conjugal partner, with whom it is destined to unite to con- 
sumate the holy offices of love, and with whom it is enabled to enjoy a 
bliss to mortals unimaginable. This union is independent of all ex- 
ternal law or choice." 

"But how can these things be, if they are not given in marriage, and 
have no choice?" inquired the Doctor. 

"I will endeavour to reduce the matter to thy comprehension," re- 
plied Jesus complacently, who perceived that the former began to be 
interested in the subject, and put his questions seriously. "Thou must 
first understand that every atom in the universe has its counterpart in 
some other atom. These counterparts are of opposite sex, whose na- 
tures assimulate to each other ; so that when the two unite, they form 
one perfect whole. All the organized beings upon the earth are formed 
after this principle. Every thing has its counterpart in another sex, 
and no perfect union can be formed, unless the two counterparts are 
precisely adapted to each other. When this takes place, it is a perfectly 
conjugal union; then the two become one perfect whole, and the union 
is complete and happy. 

"Such unions sometimes takes place among men and women upon 
the earth, but they are rare, because there are so many artificial re- 
straints to thwart and obstruct the natural inherent powers of the sexes 
assimilating and developeing their attractions for each other. If we 
take different kinds of salts and mix them, and then throw them into 
water, making a solution, the particles of every kind will seek out 
their proper counterparts of the same kind, with which they will enter 
into union, forming crystals. By the solution, all obstacles and ob- 
structions are removed, when the particles follow the impulses of their 
natures in seeking their destined mates and proper conditions. So it is 
with the Spirits of mankind after death. Death is the universal solvent 
which frees the human spirits from their worldly restrictions and op- 
posing influences; then they seek out their befitting counterparts, 
according to the inherent impulses of their being, which destine them 
to perfect conjugal unions in the Spirit World, that they could not 
accomplish when on earth. Such is the nature of heavenly marriage." 

The Doctor of law could not help admiring the beauty and reason- 
abless of this doctrine of Jesus; his conceit and pomposity were very 
much diminished. He had no farther questions to ask, or objections to 
make, so he'bashfully hung his head, and after making an obeisance, 
he stepped aside. 
The Pharisee being much delighted with the new ideab he had re- 



216 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

ceived from Jesus, determined to question him on another important 
subject. Therefore, modestly inclining himself before him, he said: 

" Master, I am now convinced that thou art a great man, — thou hast 
spoken truly and beautifully of the Spirits of the other world. I wish 
to know of thee which is the best and most perfect of all the moral 
laws, by conforming to which, a man may live wisely and righteously, 
and finally obtain an entrance to the realms of bliss hereafter.' ' 

"The greatest moral law," replied Jesus, "is dependent upon the 
first, and the first is the foundation of all moral wisdom." 

" Then what is the first law? " inquired the Pharisee eagerly. 

"The first law is," replied Jesus, with great stress upon his words: 
"Know thyself; and the second is, "Treat all men with that justice and 
humanity, with which thou wouldst they should treat thee.'' On these two 
obligations hang all the moral wisdom of society. With regard to the 
first, unless a man knows himself to a certain extent, he is not worthy 
of the name of man, neither is he fit to live as such. If he has no 
intelligence pertaining to his own nature, he is scarcely elevated a 
degree above the lower order of brutes. It is a man's consciousness 
of self which makes a man stand erect, and look around him with an 
air of true manly dignity. Why does man toil for food, raiment and 
shelter, but that he knows such things are necessary for his existence, 
and that they must be acquired by such means? Why does he make 
social compacts — make laws — build up walls around his cities, but that 
he knows security is necessary to his existence? Why does he believe 
in a God, but that he knows his person is wonderfully made, and that 
he did not make himself? Therefore he believes a God to have made 
him. These are some of the most simple items of self-knowledge ; but 
as man advances in life, his knowledge of himself becomes of greater 
extent, more refined, and of greater worth. He is enabled to make 
additions to his domestic comforts, from a knowledge of the peculiari- 
ties of his desires. He is enabled to keep himself in health from a 
knowledge of certain effects produced upon him by certain things; He 
is enabled to cultivate his mind, because he knows that knowledge is 
power within him. He is desirous of, cultivating his soul, because he 
has an ituitive impression that it came from God. And he has a desire 
to live a life of moral purity, because he knows they redound most to 
his benefit and happiness here and hereafter. Such is a slight view of 
the moral obligation to know thyself ; we will now see how the second 
is dependent upon it. 

" Treat all men with that justice and humanity thou wouldst they 
should treat thee. When thou wish est to judge thy neighbor, or to 
know how to treat him, look to thyself for the law. If thou knowest 
thyself, thy sense of propriety and justice will tell thee how to judge him 
and act with him. If thou seest thy neighbor in distress, needing help, 
then ask thyself what thou wouldst have in that condition, and what- 
ever thou wishest should be done to thee in that condition, go thou and 
do the same for him as far as in thee lies. If thy neighbor is oppressed 
by an oppressor, what wouldst thou in that case for thyself? Thou 
wouldst wish for help to resist the oppressor ; then go and .help thy 
neighbor to free himself. This simple manner of viewing and con- 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 217 

struing things will answer in all cases pertaining to thy neighbors, 
though they be ever so complicated. The obligation is founded upon a 
sense of justice, reason and humanity ; therefore, it is the best and 
greatest of the moral laws." 

" Master," responded the Pharisee, in a tone of great respect, " I per- 
ceive the beauty, reason, truth and justice of all thou hast said upon 
this subject, but as the laws of Moses place certain restrictions ujxjn our 
intercourse with men, it may be difficult to understand who is our true 
neighbor. How, then, shall we understand who is our neighbor? " 

"Who is our neighbor!" exclaimed Jesus, in astonishment, "knowest 
thou not, that all mankind are thy brethren in humanity, and all men 
not dwelling in thine own house, but living in the same country, are 
thy neighbors ? I will tell thee a tale that will help thee to understand 
me." 

Jesus paused for a moment, and then said — 

"A certain man was attacked by thieves, when they having robbed 
and wounded him, left him to die on the road. A certain priest was 
passing by, who seeing the unfortunate man, lifted up his eyes to heaven, 
ejaculated a few words of prayer for his benefit and then passed on. 
Then came a wealthy man, a great officer and man of rank — who, 
pompous and proud, seemed to scorn the ground he walked upon. He, 
perceiving the wounded man, turned up his nose with disgust, as though 
the very air around would contaminate him ; so he passed on his way 
also. Then came a travelling trader of Samaria, who was riding of a 
mule ; when, as soon as he saw the wounded man, he alighted from his 
beast and approached him ; then the Samaritan's heart became moved 
with sympathy and compassion for the poor, wounded man. He poured 
cordials into his mouth, and oil into his wounds, and tore up his under- 
garment to bind them ; then he placed the helpless man upon his beast 
and gently led him to the nearest inn, where he gave him in charge of 
the host, and putting some money into his hand he said, * Take care of 
this unfortunate man, tend him well, and whatsoever more thou shalt 
spend, I will repay thee when I return.' Which of these three men was 
the true neighbor to that man, who was robbed and wounded by the 
thieves?" 

" I should say the Samaritan was the true neighbor," answered the 
Pharisee. 

" I perceive," remarked Jesus, " thou understandest me." 

Then Jesus left the temple for that day. 



VISION TWENTY-SECOND. 

Again, the Spirits resume their powers over me, and the Temple scene 
renew, with a change of incidents of grave interest. 

Jesus was walking in the portico of the Court of Israel, as on the 
previous day, followed by some of his disciples and a multitude of 
people, some of whom being prompted by curiosity to see and hoar this 



218 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

famous innovator, while others were impelled to clo so by a sincere love 
of his doctrines and a great admiration of the man. They all desired to 
hear him give one of his usual discourses. Soon an occasion presented 
itself, for a venerable man, with a grey beard, whose costume denoted 
him to be a Pharisee, stepped forward and with a respectful obeisance, 
intimated his wish to speak to Jesus. This man's name was Nicodemus. 
He was one of the most learned of the Priesthood, holding high rank 
among them. Having heard of the great wisdom and wondrous works 
of Jesus, he thought he would question him and judge for himself, free 
of prejudice for or against him. After saluting Jesus, he regarded him 
for a few moments with an eye of great scrutiny, though with a respectful 
bearing, and then he said, in a serious and candid tone of voice — 

"Master, all Judea has heard of thy wisdom and wondrous works — 
pardon me if I am presumptuous in asking thee a question ; I am not 
prompted to do so through idle curiosity or malevolence, but from a 
desire to learn the truth." Nicodemus paused. 

" Proceed, my friend and brother," said Jesus, blandly. 

"With all my studies and experience in life," resumed Nicodemus, 
" I am not satisfied or decided what course is the best to pursue or believe 
in, to insure an immortal life hereafter ; therefore, my question is this, 
'What ought a man to do to insure eternal life?' " 

"He must renew himself; he must be born again," replied Jesus, 
emphatically. 

" Be born again ! " repeated Nicodemus, in surprise, "How can that 
be? Thou dost not mean so literally, for such a thing is impossible." 

" The language 1 use," answered Jesus, " is but a figure of speech, and 
of course not to be taken in its literal sense, yet it is very expressive of 
my meaning. The idea I wish to convey is this : A man who wishes 
to inherit. immortal life among the angels, after death, must so examine 
and purge his- spiritual part of the vices, errors and sins of this life, that 
he shall be in soul^ as pure as the babe just born. That I consider is 
equal to being born again." 

" Thy explanation is quite clear," returned Nicodemus, " but still I do 
not perceive how the soul of a man can divest itself of the errors, vices 
and sins that man has acquired during life, so as to be enabled to return 
to its original purity." 

"It is possible, nevertheless," returned Jesus. "Look around theo, 
Nicodemus, at this magnificent structure of the Temple, the greatest and 
most beautiful work of art ever produced by man, in which all the 
wisdom, skill and energy of our people have been combined in its con- 
struction. What was the design of this unparalleled structure ? Was 
it not a place destined to worship the Great Jehovah in, in honor, purity 
and truth ? And what is it now ? Thou knowest as well as I do, that 
it is full of corruption and error. How came it so? It is in this wise: 
The people are the soul of the temple; they have been led astray, 
blinded and Impt in ignorance, until they have become vicious and 
sinful ; the proceedings in the temple, then, correspond to their corrupt 
nature. But, is it not possible that the people may become enlightened 
so as to be enabled to see their errors, vices and sins ? I think it possible. 
Then, v hen they shall have reformed, the temple will be purged of its 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 219 

corruptions and restored to its purity of use, for which it was designed. 
Now let us apply this to the individual man : 

"A man is composed of body and soul. The body is the magnificent 
temple in which the soul lives during its sojourn on earth, and in which 
when in its original purity, it lifts up its grateful prayers to the Great 
Jehovah. The soul in its original pure state, has an intuitive knowledge 
of its own divine principles or nature, but when it comes into the world 
at the birth of the babe, it finds itself in total ignorance of all eternal 
things. It then begins to gather up impressions of the external world, 
and those impressions constitute the mind. Now, the constitution of 
the mind may be good or bad, in reference to the nature of the soul : if 
good, the mind, soul and body will unite harmoniously : and if bad, the 
soul and body will become corrupted ; then, the mind and body will 
enter into an alliance and mutual dependence, regardless of the rights 
and welfare of the soul. The soul, at length, becomes completely sub- 
dued ; its voice is smothered, and its presence confined to the deepest 
recesses of the bodily temple, where it carries on the offices of life un- 
known, unsought and uncared for; while the mind and the body, 
assuming to be the man, pursues a wild, erroneous, sinful and reckless 
life, in ignorance of its most important part. But, as the man passes on 
in the course of life, wandering in error, vice and sin, the soul gains a 
knowledge of external things — it then cries with a louder voice, and 
exerts all its efforts to arrest the man in his course of destruction. Per- 
haps some dreadful calamity, brought on by his reckless career, has 
prostrated his body or his mind, reducing him to a state of serious self- 
inspection, then the soul takes courage, and once more sends forth its 
voice, pointing out some of the errors of his course and the necessity of 
reform. Should the man arrest his evil course at this point, there will 
be hope, but should he disregard his inward monitor, he will inevitably 
go on to his destruction. At this stand-point there will be a great 
struggle between the spiritual and carnal parts of the man. The mind 
will be wavering, concluding to throw its influence first on one side, 
and then on the other. The body, by its dilapidated state, announces to 
the mind that the course they have been pursuing is not the correct one ; 
the mind perceives it, and confirms it by its experience. Then, the soul 
speaks in thrilling strains, regretting its original purity, petitioning to 
be released from the load of error, vice and sin by which it is bound 
down. The whole man becomes aroused and conscious of his miserable 
and degenerate state. He sheds tears of agony and remorse, and at 
length awakens to the necessity of repentance and reform." 

"But how can repentancje restore his soul to its original purity, when 
all within him is corrupt?" inquired Nicodemus. 

"There never was a human soul so corrupt, as to have its original 
nature entirely extinguished," responded Jesus, as a glow of enthusiasm 
spread over his handsome features, and his eyes beaming with a holy 
fervour, giving him the appearance of one inspired by powers more 
than human. "The soul may be led astray by the errors o( the mind- 
it may be polluted with the excesses of the body— it maybe battered 
and bruised through the calamities of life— it may be contaminated 
with vice, and it may be entangled and covered with sins oi' the darkest 



220 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

nature, still there is a speck of that divine essence which is concentrated 
within itself, safe and impregnable to all evil surroundings. Hast thou 
ever transplanted a tree, Nicodemus, from an uncongenial soil to one 
more genial? If so, thou clidst lop off all the roots and branches which 
thou didst consider were not necessary, that they might not impede its 
future growth. Then thou didst place it in better soil, and tender it 
carefully. At first, there was very little prospects that it would live, 
for it seemed sickly; all its former growth of leaves and branches 
withered and fell off; the sickly bark exfoliated and fell off. Then, in 
course of time, new buds and shoots were seen to put forth; the shoots 
extend and ramify, putting forth leaves and blossoms, and finally, it 
becomes a large and goodly tree, bearing rich fruit. So it is with "the 
human soul, Nicodemus, in its most unfavourable conditions. Let it 
be torn up from the uncongenial soil— lop off all its excressences, as near 
as possible to the centre, then plant it in a spot more favourable to its 
true nature. The divine germ of life will feel an instinctive sympathy 
with its new position; it will swell and expand, sending down new 
roots ; its impure and imperfect parts of former growth will wither and 
drop off, leaving it unimpeded in its new development. Then it will 
put forth new germs and shoots, which will give place to wide spread- 
ing branches, expanding in the broad light of day, and drinking in the 
pure dews of heaven in the evening. Finally, it will •become a goodly 
tree, rising up to heaven and bearing delicious fruit, pleasing to the 
sight of God. Such is the nature of true repentance of sin, Nicodemus, 
by which the soul of man is born again to its original purity." 

44 Master," responded Nicodemus in a grave tone and respectful 
manner, "thy words are wisdom itself, and thy eloquence surpasses 
that of all other men I have heard speak. I, Nicodemus, a ruler and 
teacher of high rank among the people, would be proud to be counted 
worthy of that new birth, which thy wisdom and eloquence have so 
beautifully made clear. But, Sir, there is another point I should like 
to hear thee speak upon. Will God receive the repentant soul, which 
was once polluted with the errors, vices and sins of the world, into his 
realms of beauty and bliss?" 

" Will God receive it?" repeated Jesus in a tone and expression of 
surprise, as he looked upon Nicodemus with sternness, which soon 
subsided and changed to one of pity. He then added : " O, Nicodemus ! 
Nicodemus ! Thou knowest not the God of whom I speak. I speak 
not of the God Jehovah, who is the prototype of Moses' self; but I 
speak of the Great God of Nature, who is the God of wisdom, love and 
benevolence. I speak not of the God of Moses, who delights in ven- 
geance and slaughter, punishing his people unto the third and fourth 
generations for the sins of their fathers. No, Nicodemus; the God I 
wish to bring to thy mind's eye, will receive the repentant sinner with 
gladness and parental care, to think that the divine spark of man's 
being has triumphed over all the obstacles and drawbacks to which 
mortal beings are liable. The repentant spirit is not judged according 
to what it was, or its progenitors before it, but according to what it is ; 
and if it be found qualified to enter the blessed realms, the portals of 
B heaven are opened to it, when it is hailed with a jo3 r ous welcome. I 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 221 



his request, then they trapped U P ^he je- e and -o e ^ ^ 

hearts. The yonnger son was wild ^ i^JJJ^ angry bc . cauS e 

obedient of his father's commands. One da, , he hecam gry ^ 

his father chided him for a fanlt. He, then demai 

share of the estate, which his sire gave 1 mm He the s 

distant country, where he soon got into X d o mpany, J ^ ^ 

days in riotous and ^smful rv mg. In co ^ d himse if in a state 

of abject poverty and misery. So low had ^e , ^ 

wherewith to appease his hunger; so he piojv ed ^ah 
piace, shivering with cold, hunger and LM£ and feedr ag^pc ^ ^ 
offal and garbage he could find One **?**** possessed 

market place in ^j^'FJ^E^^Z^ ^ from 
the jewel his father had ^JjV£3?Wi£« ^ »™PP ed 
his bosom, thinking to sell it ^J^ ™^ his attention, and his 
it, so beautiful and bright was it that it attracted h s mind 

intended purpose was forgotten for th time It W££ , 

and crave his pity, men tne piutu scenes of his 

preceding fro,,, «,e .mtnl '* » 'Jj* '^- «»»». 



222 THE TEUE HISTORY OF 

began to resume his former appearance. At length, he perceived his 
father's mansion; then his heart felt overcome with fear, and his 
countenance expressed dejection. But assuming what courage he could 
command, he softly entered the enclosure, and saw his father walking 
in the garden. Suddenly, with a shout of mingled agony and joy, he 
sprang forward and prostrated himself before him, and with tears 
streaming down his cheeks, in a piteous and humble tone, he thus ad- 
dressed him: ' Father! behold thy unhappy and repentant child! I 
acknowledge the sinfulness of my ways, and the just retribution of my 
misery for having been disobedient to thee. Although I know I am 
unworthy to be thy son, yet I would fain ask thy forgiveness and 
mercy.' 

" ' Hast thou preserved the jewel I gave thee? ' said the old man in a 
stern voice. 

"* Yes father — I have it safe,' replied the son sobbing. 'Under all 
my temptations, recklessness and sin, I thought of thy love and guarded 
it well.' 

" 'Then come to my arms, thou dear repentant child; thou shalt ever 
be my son,' replied the father, with tears of joy running down his 
cheeks. 'Forasmuch as thou didst not, under all the errors of thy 
ways, disregard thy father's love and obedience in that particular, I 
will forgive all the past, and again receive thee to my heart.' 

"Nicodemus," said Jesus, as soon as he had ended his narrative, 
" canst thou see the gist of this little tale ? " 

"Most worthy master," replied Mcodemus reverently, "I perceive 
its application. Worthy thou art to be a teacher over the people of 
Israel." 

Then the parties dispersed, when Jesus left the temple for that day. 



VISION TWENTY-THIRD. 

Again, the Spirits resume their powers, presenting before the mental 
eye the previous scene, with other incidents appropriate of intense 
interest. 

On the eastern end of the portico of the Court of Israel, Jesus was 
elevated on a bench at the foot of one of the pillars, with a crowd of 
people around him, who were listening to one of his moral discourses. 
All proceeded in good order for awhile, to the great satisfaction of the 
audience, whose attention was absorbed in the interest of tlfe subject. 
The people gave evidence of some commotion : the crowd was broken 
into, producing great confusion, when several voices cried aloud, 
"make way!" Then the people were scattered, and a body of men 
with a woman in their midst, thrust themselves forward and approach- 
ed Jesus. They seemed to be persons of authority, for they forced the 
people to stand off some distance from the pillar, leaving a large open 
space, which they enclosed with their own persons. The woman was 



JESUS OP NAZARETH, 223 

made to stand alone within a few feet of Jesus, when one of the officials 
advanced, and thus addressed him— 

"Reverend master, this woman has broken the laws of Moses. She 
has committed adultry, and been caught in the act. Now Moses says, 
that any woman found thus guilty, shall be stoned to death. We wish 
to know, reverend Sir, what is thy opinion." 

The object of this accusation stood in their midst, with her head 
slightly drooping, indicative of shame, as she was sobbing and crying 
in great distress. She was tall and symmetrical in form ; youthful, 
but of mature development ; a fine rounded arm and well developed 
bust. Her dark hair hanging loosely around her neck and shoulders, 
with a white veil attached in front, which obscured the beauty of her 
countenance; yet from certain glimpses taken, were seen features of 
great regularity, and expressions denoting great ardour of the passions. 
She was dressed in a loose robe of black, which fell in graceful folds to 
the ground ; over which was a vestment of light blue, terminating a 
little below the waist, held close to her person by a narrow girdle of 
red silk, and her ears, nose, arms and fingers were adorned with jewels. 
Jesus regarded the accuser with a penetrating glance, when he saw 
evidences that the former was a stern, hard hearted man — so that the 
woman could not expect any mercy from him. He also saw, that when 
he had made an end of his accusation, he cast a furitive glance at his 
associates, as a smile of cunning played around his mouth. This, 
Jesus construed as having some reference to himself, and he reasonably 
supposed that it was a plot, devised by the Priesthood to entrap him 
into some indiscreet expression of sentiment, that they might have 
authority to bring him before the Sanhedrim, under accusation. He, 
therefore, thought it prudent to be careful as to what he should do or 
say in this matter. Then, turning towards the woman, he regarded 
her fine person and unfeigned distress with emotions of commiseration. 
He resolved to investigate her case, and if she proved to be one worthy 
of mercy, to save her, if possible, from the dreadful penalty attached 
to her crime. Then, catching the glance of the woman, he exchanged 
with her one of pure sympathy, when he addressed her in a voice of 
mildness : 
"Woman," he said, "is this accusation against thee just or unjust?" 
The woman, as soon as she caught the glance of Jesus, instinctively 
perceived that the heart of the man before her was open to mercy, and 
that his mind was governed by just principles. A flash of hope im- 
mediately passed through her mind, and a thrill of courage gave her 
heart a new impulse. Then, immediately stooping at his feet, she took 
up the hem of his garment and kissed it, and said in an imploring tone 
of voice — 

"O, most worthy and reverend Sir! deign to listen to my tale, and 
then thou shalt be my judge, and whatever doom shall be pronounced 
from thy lips, I will receive it with resignation." 

"My ears are open to the self-justification of the unfortunate, and 
my heart can sympathize with the oppressed," replied Jesus. " Woman 
relate thy tale." 
Then the accused, erecting herself from her humiliating position, 



224 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

remained silent for a few moments, in which she regained her com- 
posure ; then confronting Jesus with a countenance void of timidity 
or shame, but of a firm reliance of the justice of her plea and good 
feelings of her judge, in a voice clear and firm, mingled with a degree 
of pathos, she proceeded to give a sketch of her history relating to the 
subject of her accusation— 

"It is not often, Reverend Sir," she saM, "that a woman under the 
base accusation such as mine, has the good fortune to meet with a judge 
whose mind is free from common prejudices, and whose heart is moved 
with the sublime impulses of sympathy for the unfortunate, but such 
I deem my good fortune under the present disreputable charge, as I 
stand before thee. How can a woman who is accused, expect mercy or 
justice, when the minds of her people and judges are made up of un- 
wholesome prejudices, vicious customs and tyrannical laws, which are 
entirely opposed to her nature? How can she expect justice, when the 
hearts of her judges are callous and unsusceptible to the fine impulses 
of mercy, because the unfortunate woman is under the ban of the public 
mind, for daring to assume certain rights which she has inherited from 
her Maker, though not acknowledged by the blind and inefficient laws 
of man ? If she be tried by her judges, she is proven guilty or innocent : 
if guilty, she is condemned for being what God in his wisdom designed 
her to be, and not being what her judges in their ignorance and vile 
prejudices considered she ought to be : and if she be proven innocent, 
she blasts her own nature, by conforming to the vile commerce of man, 
instead of assuming the divine right and fulfilling the tender offices of 
love assigned to her nature by God. I will now to my tale : 

"I am the only child of parents who have a small estate, to which, at 
their death, I shall inherit by right. Not far from my parent's mansion, 
lives a neighbor whose estate joins that of ours, who has an only son, 
with whom my parents were desirous of uniting me in marriage. With- 
out my consent an arrangement was made that he should be my 
husband. When the matter was made known to me, I refused to agree 
to their arrangements, for good reasons : I entertained a pure and holy 
love for another man, whose love for me was equal to mine. The other 
reason was, I considered the son of our neighbor not worthy of me, for 
he was ugly, coarse, ignorant and vicious, having habits not congenial 
to the marriage state, he was a great wine bibber. My parents at first 
tried persuasion to gain my consent, without avail, then they com- 
menced a course of restraint and coercion, and when the day appointed 
for the marriage came, they compelled me, in spite of all my protesta- 
tions, to go through the ceremony. I was at length, forced to Decome 
the wife of a man I never had loved and never can love. Three years of 
a most wretched life I have lived with that man, in which I have ex- 
perienced all the horrors that a poor mortal can suffer. Every day I 
had to submit to abuse, taunts, insults the most revolting, and severe 
beatings, and then at night I was made the mortifying receptacle of his 
vile lusts. Not long since, the man for whom I entertained a pure love, 
I met by accident, when we renewed the expressions of our holy 
passion for each other, and under the influence of our ardour we em- 
braced, as nature taught us to unite in the body, to consummate the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 225 

destined end of our mutual love. The rest is known to thee, Reverend 
Sir. Picture then, to thyself, the wrongs I have sustained and the stigma 
brought upon me, though no unnatural act of mine has been the cause. 
If the marriage rites have been broken, it was not by me, for I never 
married the man. The fault is attributable to my parents, who forced 
me to do, in spite of my inclinations, what I could not prevent. Judging 
then, Reverend Sir, thou to be a man of reason and mercy, I submit my 
doom to thy decision." 

The woman ended her tale, and the breast of Jesus was painfully 
moved with emotions of profound compassion for the much injured 
criminal, and the people around, who had heard and comprehended her, 
shed tears of sympathy, while the priestly officers looked at each other 
w r ith expressions of uneasiness. 

Jesus remained silent for a few minutes with his eyes cast to the 
ground, which he passed in recovering his serenity and collecting his 
thoughts, while all others around awaited in silent, solemn expectation 
his decision upon the case. At length, raising his head and turning 
upon the chief officer a stern and fearless glance, he said in a loud and 
emphatic voice — 

" Thou wouldst have my opinion in this case?" 

" If it so please thee, Reverend Sir," answered the officer. 

"Then thou shalt have it," replied Jesus, as he pointed to the woman 
and added, "This woman is not guilty of the charge." 

"Not guilty!" exclaimed the officer, with astonishment, the same 
being echoed by all the others. "Not guilty! Why, Sir, this woman 
was caught in the act ! " 

"It matters not, I say she is not guilty," repeated Jesus, with great 
assurance, "which I will prove to thee in a minute."' 

Then" Jesus went close to the officer, when placing his foot quickly 
behind him and giving him a push on the breast at the same time, the 
man went staggering backward, and after an ineffectual struggle to re- 
gain nis balance, at length came softly to the ground, much to the 
astonishment of the priests and the people, who, as soon as thej^ saw 
there was no harm done, gave a loud shout of laughter ; Jesus, however, 
hastened to help him to rise, when the officer began to give demonstra- 
tions of great indignation. 

" Peace, man," said Jesus, soothingly, '" I mean thee no harm, my act 
was intended as a simple mode of illustrating this case before us. Didst 
thou fall of thine own will, or the will and force of another?" 

" I certainly fell by thy will and force," answered the man, angrily. 

" Such is the case of this poor woman," rejoined Jesus. " She fell not 
into crime by her own will and power, but through the will and power 
of others ; therefore, she cannot be amenable for the results. It would 
be injustice and cruelty to punish her for the results of other persons' 
bad conduct. She never married that man called her husband , there- 
fore, she could not have broken the marriage rites, or the laws of 
Moses." 

"How, Sir! Not marry him?" exclaimed the officer. "Do not her 
parents and all her neighbors testify that she is his wife? " 

"I say she is not his wife," returned Jesus with great emphasis, 

15 



226 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

" neither in the sight of God or man ; therefore, she has not broken any 
law of Moses or of God. What do the Levitical laws say regarding 
marriage ? They state what men and women shall not marry. But do 
they state that a woman shall marry a man against her will and inclina- 
tions ? They do not, nor any other law of ancient script. By what right, 
then, do the parents of this woman force her to a marriage union with 
that man, against her consent and inclinations, for such is the actual 
case. It is by their own despotic and selfish wills that they have 
accomplished it — then it is to them, and not to her, the evil results are 
to be attributed. The Lord is represented to say, when instituting the 
marriage of man and woman, that * The man shall cleave unto his wife 
and they shall become one flesh.' This implies that there is a mutual 
consent and love existing with both parties, previous to their union as 
husband and wife. For without this there can be no union. But how 
is it with this wronged woman ? Without her consent ; without any 
impulse of love, she has been compelled by brutal force to become the 
wife of that vile and profligate man, called her husband. Therefore, 
this violent course of proceedings has been in violation of all the laws of 
God, of Moses, and the instincts of humanity. What right, then, has 
that man to call her wife — to make her life wretched and her body the 
sink of his lusts ? He has no right. And nothing but blind ignorance, 
sordid interests and tyrannical customs will support him in it. And, 
not being his wife by right, she is not under any obligations to conform 
to any of the marriage rites and duties. Consequently, whatever she 
does of her own free will, she is not amenable to him. She was given 
to him as wife by despotic force, how then could she have anything to 
do in the solemn consummation of the marriage rites, when she was a 
coerced prisoner? A marriage, to be just and pure, must be consum- 
mated by two free consenting parties, who are moved towards each 
other by the divine impulses of holy love, which is to be the bond of 
union between them, making them one flesh and one spirit. Was there 
any holy love between this man and this woman? No, there was none. 
He was impelled like the wild rampant beast of the forest, with the 
hot, lustful passion of the brute. No soft, thrilling impulses of love 
hovered around his heart, filling it with tender sympathies and sweet, 
joyous desires for the other sex. No refined essence traversed the 
labyrinths of his mind, disseminating the divine intelligence, that the 
holy offices of love in the flesh were the preparatory means, by which 
God designed to perpetuate the spiritual part of mankind. No ; he 
knew nothing of this pure and holy love. 

44 How different was the state of this woman, previous to the forced 
marriage with that man ! She became acquainted with a man whom 
she thought capable of making her happy: a love was engendered 
between them, which was tender, pure and holy. They lived in blissful 
anticipations that they should become as one flesh and one spirit ; their 
only desire being to live for each other, fulfil their duties on earth, and 
thus render themselves happy and worthy of their God. But sad has 
been the lot of this truly loving woman ; for her wicked parents, whose 
mercenary souls aspire to naught but worldly wealth, deprived their 
daughter of her natural rights, her earthly happiness and prospects of 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 227 

future bliss, by forcing her to this unhappy marriage. Like a dog did 
they treat her, — forcing her from her home — tearing her from the man 
she loved, and forcing another, she loathed, to be her master. How- 
did that man treat her? Did he love her? No; but he gratified all his 
nithy cravings, as a drunkard would with his wine cup, in loathsome 
excesses and vicious revelies. Cruel taunts, jeers, quarrels and beatings 
filling up her miserable days, until years of anguish passed. At length, 
the object of her true love comes across her path; they renew the ex- 
pressions of their mutual love and the miseries of their wrongs ; but 
their afflictions are forgotten for the moment, in the happiness of each 
other's presence, and the sweet impulses of their holy passion bring 
them into closer embrace, when they forget all worldly prudence, or 
that there were enemies around them. This woman fell into the em- 
brace of her true lover : by so doing, she complied with the laws of her 
being, and her duties to God, by whose divine impulses she had been 
swayed. What right has her enemies to accuse her of crime — of adul- 
tery? She broke no law of marriage, for she never married. What her 
enemies call her marriage, was a violation of her natural and civil 
rights, committed by her parents. Let them, then, answer for the 
results. If there is a crime committed, it is of their doing, and the 
blame or sin of the matter will be upon their heads. That man can 
have no claim for outraged rights, for he is not her husband by right, 
divine or human. The laws of Moses she has not broken, for they 
were not conformed to in the ceremony of the marriage, but the laws 
of God she alone fulfilled. Therefore, you members of the Sanhedrim, 
it is my opinion that this woman is not guilty of the crime charged to 
her. You expounders and defenders of the Mosaical law must under- 
stand that there are other laws of greater authority than those estab- 
lished by Moses, which have existed from the commencement of the 
world. I mean the laws or principles of love, established by God 
himself, and made inherent in man and woman at the time of their 
creation. Now, if there be a conflict between these laws, which ought 
to be suppressed that the other may rule ? Shall the law of God be 
suppressed, that the law of Moses shall rule? Or, shall the law of 
Moses give way, that the law of God shall predominate? If this case 
be investigated by wise and impartial men, it will be found that no law- 
has been broken by this woman, but that the case will bear this com- 
plexion. 

" The parents of this woman were moved by worldly considerations 
to marry their daughter to the man called her husband, by which, thejr 
proved themselves deficient of parental affection and duty. The daugh- 
ter refused to comply, as she loved another. In this she stood upon 
her natural rights, in which no law or person whatever has a right to 
oppose her. Then, her parents forced her to comply with their wishes, 
in violation of all law, human and divine. This tyrannical coercion 
took from the daughter all responsibility for the results of this wicked 
marriage; she, therefore, is not guilty of any crime in committing the 
act with which she is charged. But on the contrary, in doing what 
she has done, she has conformed to the principles of her nature, in 
accordance with her natural rights and her duty to her God, If &nch. 



228 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

or similar to this, be not the opinion of a just and impartial judge, I 
will consent to cast the first stone at her." 

When Jesus had ended his defence of the woman, there was a great 
excitement among the people, who clamoured loudly for her release. 
The priests were much excited also, talking loudly and violently, as 
though they were of opposite opinions what should be done with her. 
Some were for freeing her on the spot, while others were opposed to it. 
At length, the people became so excited that the priests began to fear 
for themselves ; so they withdrew, leaving the woman in the presence 
of Jesus and the people. Then, Jesus turning his attention to her, 
observed in a mild, compassionate tone of voice : 

"Woman, thy accusers have left thee. Thou hast heard my opinion, 
now depart in peace, and for the future be more circumspect." 

The woman fell at his feet and embraced them. 



VISION TWENTY-FOURTH. 



The /Spirits renew the previous scene, with other incidents, 






More than usual activity and priestly show were exhibited within and 
around the Holy Temple, for it was the feast of the Tabernacles, which 
was instituted in commemoration of the event when the Jews' ancestors 
had left Egypt, and were living in booths and tents in the wilderness. 
Around the porticos of the Court of Israel there was a great display of 
small booths and tents, between the interior rows of pillars, which 
were made of woolen and linen cloths, handsomely decorated in an 
endless variety of fanciful ways. Within these slight structures were 
parties of friends, who had assembled to converse, pray, and rejoice in 
such modes as they thought best and suitable on the occasion — a liberal 
dispensing of wine and cakes forming a part of the ovation. Some of 
these booths and tents were of a public nature, where strangers from 
all parts assembled and paid for their entertainment. The people were 
in their best attire, and the priests in their most splendid holy-day 
vestments. Large bands of musicians and singers were stationed at 
various places, producing a continuous din of inharmonious noises. 
All faces were gay, and every one at liberty to exercise his wit and 
humor, provided all were kept within the bounds of good nature, for 
that day was a day of rejoicing. Jesus, as usual, made his appearance 
about the middle of the day. He was walking along the southern 
portico, followed by some of his disciples and attendants, and a great 
crowd of admirers and strangers, who wished to see and hear something 
to realize the wonderful reports they had heard concerning him. The 
faith of the common people, in the virtue of Jesus in curing diseases, 
was very great; for a great part considered themselves safe for the 
present or future if he would toucli them, or they could touch him or 
his garments; yet their respect and reverence prevented them from 
crowding upon him. However, many, as he passed along, bent before 
him, beseeching him to place his hand upon them; while others 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 229 

stealthily seized the corner of his dress which they kissed, or touched 
with it some particular part of their bodies. He had gratified the 
wishes of many on" that occasion by touching them, and many had 
gratified themselves by touching him, when, at length, a man was led 
before him by two friends, who seemed to be blind, for his eyes wore 
closed. His head was covered with a large roll of linen, coming down 
low in front near to his eye-brows, and his face nearly covered with a 
full red beard and whiskers ; his dress being of the ordinary kind — a 
long blue coat and broad girdle. 

"Master," said the blind man, as he crouched down before Jesus in a 
suppliant posture, "have pity on my misfortunes, and do something 
to relieve my affliction. I know thou art a good and wise man, possess- 
ing a gift from God ; I, therefore, beg thee to extend it in mercy to my 
benefit." 

"I am afraid that no one can aid thee save God," responded Jesus 
with a feeling of distress, for he saw clearly this was a case beyond his 
power to relieve. 

"But master," resumed the blind man, "I dreamed last night that I 
met thee in this temple, and that thou didst spit upon thy finger and 
passed it over my eyes, when I immediately saw. I beg thee to do so ; 
I feel convinced my dream was not of vain import." 

Jesus still hesita ed to comply with the man's request, when Judas 
whispered in his ear — "Master, comply with this man's request, and 
remember the cures at Bethesda Pool and other places: thou hast 
greater powers in thee than thy modesty will allow." Jesus then 
consented to do as the man requested him, when he spat on his finger 
and observed : 

"I will do as thou wishest me, but remember, the result is of God 
and not of me, if any good comes to thee." 

Then, passing his finger across his eyes, the man immediately sprang 
to his feet, opened his eyes, and stared around him in astonishment, and 
at length exclaimed — 

" Praise be to God and Jesus of Nazareth ! I see ! — I see ! " 

Some minutes were now passed in the joyful demonstrations of the 
cured blind man and the wondering excitement of the people around 
him, when, at length, he returned to Jesus, fell at his feet and expressed 
his gratitude. Then Judas told his friends that they had better take 
him home, in case the light should injure his newly restored sight. 
They accordingly did so; but Judas, before they went, managed to 
whisper to him a few words, and said : 

"Cosbi, meet me to-night at the usual place." 

Jesus then resumed his walk, but his progress was soon interrupted 
by a body of Scribes and Pharisees, who approached him, when one of 
the Superiors thus accosted him : 

"We wish to know by what power thou doest these things in the 
temple — whether it be of God, or Belzebub." 

Jesus regarded the questioner for a few moments with mingled sur- 
prise and contempt, but at length made answer — 

"I will ask thee a question, and according to thy answer I will give 
thee mine. By what power or authority dost thou move thy finger?" 



230 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

The Superior Scribe remained silent for some time, for he seemed 
puzzled with the question ; but at length he replied : 

"Well, I suppose it must be through the power of God, for the 
psalmist says 'In thee we move and have our being.' " 

" Thou say est well," replied Jesus. "Even so is my answer to thy 
question. All I say and do, is of God, — and more especially that which 
I say and do in the temple." 

"But how are we to know that thou speakest the truth?" inquired 
the Superior. "A man in the Courts of the law cannot bear testimony of 
himself." 

"That is true, as regard the Courts of law," responded Jesus. "But 
I must remind thee that the things of God are not regulated according 
to the customs and practice in the Courts of law; one is of God, the 
other of man. Now I assert that everything that comes of God has a 
testimony within itself, whence it comes and by what authority it acts." 
Jesus then pointed to the sun and added: "Seest thou yonder bright 
luminary which dispenses its light all over the earth? Dos not that 
bright orb testify of itself, from whence it came and what is its mission ? 
Is it not from God? Is it of God? " 

" Thou art right in that respect," responded the Superior ; " but there is 
a great difference between the sun in the heavens and a man in society." 

"Not so much as thou thinkest," rejoined Jesus. "The light. of that 
sun testifies that it is a part of God's works, and that it came from God. 
Even so the light that shines within me testifies that it came from God, 
and that my spiritual self is a part of God. Not of me alone, for all 
men could give the same testimony of themselves, if they would with- 
draw themselves from the wickedness of the world, and uncover the 
light which is in them." 

" This is really blasphemy! " exclaimed the Superior, in great indigna- 
tion. " This doctrine must have come from the Arch Fiend himself. 
Thou shalt be denounced before the Sanhedrim, as a reviler of God, in 
asserting that thou art from and of him." 

By this time the other Scribes and Pharisees had approached near to 
Jesus, forming a semi-circle before him, they stood and listened with 
surprise and indignation at what they considered his madness and 
assurance. 

Jesus, perceiving that the Superior would not or could not argue with 
him any further, and feeling his spirit aroused by the observation of the 
latter, thought that if they would not believe his testimony concerning 
himself, he would see if they would believe him if he testified against 
them. Jesus and the Priesthood were naturally enemies to each other, 
always acting in antagonisms. The latter were reasonably afraid that 
the former would injure their worldly interests, by enlightening the 
people upon their true condition. And, Jesus knew that the people 
could not improve as long as the Priesthood held them in mental 
slavery. They, consequently, appeared in his eyes, the Great Evil of 
Society, which he was determined to attack and destroy with the 
weapons of reason and truth. He, therefore, thought this a good oppor- 
tunity to give them a true picture of themselves, and scatter a litt 
knowledge among the people of their Priestly rulers. 



,tle 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 231 

Having discontinued his discourse with the Superior, he addressed 
himself to the whole body of the Scribes and Pharisees before him, in 
language more than usually emphatic, severe, sarcastic and ironical. 

" You Scribes and Pharisees ! " he said, " it seems you will denounce 
me before the tribunal of the Sanhedrim, for testifying to the truth of 
myself. What- will you do if I testify against you? " 

He paused for a moment, then altering his tone of voice to one of 
irony and sarcasm, he resumed : 

" Most Just and Holy Order of men ! You sit on the seats of the High 
Tribunal established by Moses, as the Rulers of the people of Israel, 
dressed in the vestments of your sacred offices — assuming a solemn 
dignity on the occasion — drawing down the corners of your mouths and 
wearing that solemn, grave expression of countenance denoting wisdom, 
which is lacking in your minds. 

"When walking abroad among the people, your gait is one of 
solemnity and sedateness, and your garments are precisely cut to the 
fashion of sanctity. When you sit under the porches of the temple, you 
spread broad your phylacteries, that the people may notice them — and 
with all the formulae of pious mummery, you perform the customary 
evolutions and prayers ; when at the same time, neither sanctity nor 
piety dwell in your hearts. O ! base and ridiculous hypocrites ! Why 
do you call upon Father Moses or Father Abraham to testify to the truth 
of your speech ? but, that you know there is no truth within you, and 
that you wish to deceive the people. Why is all this masking, this 
hypocrisy and deceit ? Because you wish to blind the people and make 
fools Of them, that you may impose upon them heavy burdens of taxes, 
of offerings and presents, in order that you may live a life of laziness, 
and gorge upon the good things of the land, which you rob from the 
poor and needy. O ! you base hypocrites ! unworthy the name of men, 
for true manhood is not in your natures. How long will you be the 
pest of the nation ? Though great pretenders to humility, you are 
greedy for the high distinction and reverence of men. You expect the 
highest seats in the chamber when you go to a feast, and to be treated 
with all possible marks of reverence by word and action. You are not 
content to receive the ordinary salutations of men, but when they make 
their salute they must bend so low, that the fringes of their girdles touch 
the ground. When you are addressed, you are not content to be called 
by your proper names, but the speaker must say, in a most reverened 
tone of voice, Rabbi, Rabbi, Rabbi. Indeed ! In my serious judgment, 
a mad dog is more worthy to be called Rabbi, than such a conceited puffed 
up set of hypocrites as you are. You base set of robbers ! What benefit 
do the people receive at your hands, for the plunder you take from them? 
You take from them the greater portion of their lands, houses, the finest 
and fattest of their flocks, their cattle, harvest, wine, oil, gold and silver. 
What benefit do the people receive for the deprivation of so much of 
their wealth? You give them in exchange, a long sanctimonious 
prayer — a blessing, ejaculated with a pious snuffle — the singing of an 
old song, and a little discordant music. Such are the benefits your holy 
order of thieves return to the people for the loss of their substance. By 
a system of barbarous superstition, a code of cruel laws, and the enforce- 



232 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

nient of tyrannical customs, you prevent the people from becoming 
enlightened, and thus you shut out from them a knowledge of the true 
God, and the true Heaven — keeping them within the same bounds and 
anticipations that were established by their barbarous ancestors — at the 
same time, you will traverse both sea and land to make one convert to 
your own evil system, under the pretence of glorifying God. 

" O ! you blind and infatuated fools ! Your minds possess a wonderful 
contractility and expansibility. They are so contracted that they can- 
not receive a simple truth that I state ; yet their expansibility is so im- 
mense, that they will take in as true, all the absurd and ridiculous state- 
ments constituting the system of superstition which this temple 
embraces. Truly do you realize the old adage, that * You will strain at 
a gnat and swallow a camel.' Mark me, you men of deception, hypo- 
crisy and perfidy. The time will come when this vast temple, with all 
its corruptions, shall tumble to pieces, and the Jewish superstition shall 
be scattered to all parts of the earth. Then, the masks of her priests 
shall be torn from them, and they will be exposed in all their follies and 
corruptions. Tremble now in anticipation of the true character with 
which the world will esteem you. Shrink within yourselves at the 
loathsome image they will form in their minds, when speaking of the 
Scribes and Pharisees, for terribly disgusting will it be." 

Jesus could not proceed any farther in his severe rebuke of the Scribes 
and Pharisees, for they burst forth in most direful demonstrations of 
rage. They rent the air with their shouts of execration and anathema. 
They spat towards Jesus; hissed through their teeth; jumped up and , 
down ; tore their beards and rent their garments. They would have 
sprung upon him and killed him, but were afraid of the people. Then 
throwing their head tires upon the ground, they ran from the portico 
towards the palace of the Sanhedrim, uttering the most dreadful de- 
nunciations against him. In the meantime, the followers and disciples 
of Jesus had closed around him, as a means of protection of his person. 
The people were much astonished and dismayed, many of them leaving 
with the priests, and many remaining on the spot. 

Jesus perceived that he had irreconcilably offended the whole Priest- 
hood ; therefore, taking the advice of his friends, he concluded to leave 
the temple and remain in seclusion for some days, at least, when he 
acccordingly departed. 



VISION TWENTY-FIFTH. 






Again, the Spirits resume their mystic powers, and before my mental 
eye re-produce the Sanhedrim Palace scene. 

The sun had set, and night's dark curtains were spread over the Holy 
City; a gloomy mist hung around the stupendous temple, when the 
audience chamber within the palace of Caiaphas was resplendent with 
artificial light, emitted from numerous golden lamps, which were 
supported by pedestals around the walls* There were several persons 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 233 

present, nearly all of whom were in the priestly garb, and a few in 
citizens dress, awaiting the presence of the High Priest, Caiaphas. Some 
walked to and fro in companies of twos and threes, while others stood 
in small gronps, or leaned against the pillars, in conversation. In one 
of the gronps there were about six persons, all dressed in the order of 
the Priesthood, who seemed to be much excited by the subject of their 
discourse. They were all members of the Sanhedrim Council, deputed 
by that most sacred body to communicate to the High Priest certain 
resolves of their pious and charitable determinations. 

Since the visit of Saul to Caiaphas, when the former explained his 
plan of entrapping Jesus, which terminated in an understanding among 
the conspirators, Caiaphas had placed an injunction upon the proceed- 
ings of the Council, with regard to all matters relating to Jesus, so that 
they should not spoil the deeply laid conspiracy against him— at the 
same time, very few knew anything of the secret proceeding that were 
going on ; therefore the members thought it very strange that Jesus 
should be daily allowed to insult the Holy Order, and, as they were 
willing to prove, break the laws of Moses ; besides, blaspheming against 
the Most High Jehovah in the course of his preachings to the people. 
They thought that he ought to have been arrested long ago, and brought 
before the Council on the charge of blasphemy, if on no other charge. 
How it was that all propositions of the kind were defeated, they could 
not tell. But after the severe rebuke they received in the temple by 
Jesus, their sacred dignity became lowered in the sight of the people, 
and their mortification so great thereat, that they determined to unite 
all their voices and powers in giving vent to their vengeance upon the 
offender. They accordingly met in council, discussed the matter in 
indignant terms, and finally resolved to petition the High Priest to give 
his consent to the arresting of Jesus, and bringing him before the 
tribunal. They accordingly met in the audience chamber, to submit 
their request to Caiaphas. 

"By the God of our Fathers!" exclaimed one of the deputed priests, 
" I think this conceited pretender has been allowed grace enough. It 
is high time his blasphemous and insurrectionary doctrines should be 
silenced before the people. If he is allowed to go on much longer, 
*hero is not a member of our Holy Order will be allowed to walk the 
streets of the city in safety. We must unite our voices, and compel his 
Reverence to consent to our resolutions. Did you notice how the in- 
solent dog told us that we drew down the corners of our mouths, and 
assumed an expression of wisdom on our faces, because we had none 
in our heads? He must have alluded to thee, brother Jacob, because 
the corners of thy mouth hang down very much.'' 

" 1 do not know that he alluded to me in particular/ ' responded Rabbi 
Jacob, rather testily — he having a very large mouth with the corners 
drawn down — "any more than to thee, when he said we assumed wis- 
dom in our faces, because we had none in our brains.'' 

"He said our sanctity and piety were in the out and fashion of our 
garments, instead of being in our hearts," observed Rabbi Abraham, 
with some degree of indignation in his manner. " Now this is a gross* 
personal insult, as well as blasphemy against our Order*" 



234 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"He said worse than that," observed Rabbi Seth, "for he called us 
vile hypocrites, fools, knaves and thieves. He certainly must be a 
great calumniator, for I hever heard such epithets used among ourselves 
when in dispute, and I think we ought to know whether they are ap- 
plicable to us or not." 

"Now if we relate this to his Reverence, and he does not give his 
consent to have him brought before the Council, I shall begin to think 
there is something very mysterious between his Reverence and this 
Pretender," observed Rabbi Moses. 

By this time, the tapestry over the doorway leading into the interior 
chamber, was moved aside, when the High Priest, Caiaphas, made his 
appearance, followed by Rabbath Gamaliel, the President of the San- 
hedrim. Caiaphas was habited in an unofficial costume, consisting of 
black vestments and plain white tire. His countenance was sad and 
careworn ; his step grave and solemn, as he advanced to the centre of 
the apartment and received the homage of all present. Having made 
a courteous acknowledgement of the respect shown to him, he pro- 
ceeded to confer with several persons around him, seeming to dispatch 
their business with ease and expertness ; and after a while, he pointed 
to the group of deputies from the Sanhedrim, inquiring of Gamaliel 
their business. Gamaliel made answer, when Caiaphas said "Let 
them approach and state their desires." Gamaliel gave the intimation 
to the deputies, when they approached the High Priest, and after 
making their obeisance, the Abbithdin, or Vice President, spoke as 
follows : 

"We are commissioned by our Most Holy and Sapient Council, to 
appear before your Most Sacred Reverence, praying you to review the 
late restrictions you placed upon their proceedings, to the effect that 
* No measures shall be entered upon, or against a certain man named 
Jesus,' who has become obnoxous to us in many respects, as a blas- 
phemer and transgressor against the rites and holy ordinances of our 
holy religion and temple, as well as being a professed enemy of our 
Holy Order. We, having a proof that this Jesus being a transgressor 
in all these particulars mentioned, desire that your Reverence will 
remove from us your injunction as mentioned, so that we may arrest 
this profaner of all that is sacred and holy, and cause him to be brought 
before our Sacred Council to answer the charges against him. Such is 
the desire of the Sacred Council, and may the blessings of our fathers, 
Abraham and Moses, rest upon your head." 

The Abbithdin bowed low and stood aside, when Rabbi Jacob ad- 
vanced and spoke as follows : 

"May it please your Most Exalted Reverence to comply with our 
petition. The proceedings of this audacious pretender have become 
most outrageous. This arch blasphemer not only transgresses and 
bids defiance to our Mosaic laws — profanes the Holy Temple and its 
sacred rites and ceremonies, but he has entered into an open contest 
and war with our sacred Order before the people. Yes, even in the 
Holy Temple did he accuse its sacred servants of the most flagrant 
crimes. He exhibited us in the most wicked and unjust light, bringing 
down upon us the contempt and ridicule of the rabble of the city. It 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 235 

is not safe for any of our Order to walk the streets of the city: and 
unless this bold pretender to virtue be arrested in his progress, the 
whole of our sacred institutions will tumble down." 

Caiaphas having heard the address and petition of the deputies, 
seemed to be much perplexed. He remained silent for some minutes, 
then motioning Gamaliel to approach, he conversed with him for some 
time in a low tone. At length, turning to the Abbithdin, he replied: / 

" I am sorry that the Sacred Council cannot abide my pleasure on 
this matter. But you may inform them from me, that measures of a 
secret nature are in operation to accomplish all they desire, in so com- 
plete a manner as to prevent a recurrence of the grievances they com- 
plain of. Let them wait patiently a little while longer, when all they 
have asked will be complied with." 

This answer seemed to satisfy the deputies, who making their obei- 
sance, took their departure from his sacred presence. 

"Gamaliel," said Caiaphas, as soon as the deputies had departed, 
"this dark business must be brought to a close. The members of the 
Council are irritated, and begin to look cool upon me for staying their 
proceedings. The people are in commotion and much divided upon 
matters, — the greater part being still adherents of our old institutions, 
but a great portion are followers of this new teacher. Things cannot 
proceed thus much longer, for there will be an irruption before long, 
which will produce a general consternation. If we are to act in this 
matter, we must do so soon, if we wish to preserve the existence of our 
Order. Didst thou not say thy friend Saul would be here to-night? " 

"Yes, your Reverence," replied Gamaliel, "I expect him every in- 
stant, as it is about the time he promised to be here. No doubt when 
he comes, he will give jour Reverence such information on this matter 
as will allay all cause of uneasiness." . 

"I hope he may," replied Caiaphas in a despondent tone, and his 
countenance was expressive of inward uneasiness. " To tell thee the 
truth, Gamaliel, I like not this business, and were it not that I am under 
obligations to support these institutions and all pertaining to them, I 
would wash my hands from this affair. O ! God of my Fathers ! Is it 
possible, that within the precincts of this Holy Temple, treachery and 
murder should hide their odious hands under the garb of sanctity ! " 

"Hold!" exclaimed Gamaliel in a tone of authority, as he regarded 
the High Priest with a look of stern rebuke. " Caiaphas, such words 
must not be uttered within or without the precincts of the temple, not 
even by Caiaphas. Remejnber, we are but men, and not Gods who are 
perfect. It becomes us, then, to act as men, in conformity with the 
views and interests of our associates." 

"Pardon me, Gamaliel, for the indiscreet sentiment I uttered," said 
Caiaphas, who felt himself humbled by the rebuke of his inferior in 
office; but knowing that which he had inadvertently said would be 
highly displeasing to the Order of Priesthood, he was afraid to resent 
the check he had received. He then added: "I will be staum-h for the 
future, and remember that I am the Head of the Holy Order. I will 
imitate the zeal of those deputies who were here just now. 1 >idst thou 
notice how eager they were to hunt down that young man, Jesus, likt) 



236 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

the savage hunters of the wilderness do the gazell? It seemed to me 
as though they could lap his blood with as much zest as any blood- 
hounds could do." 

"Your Reverence," replied Gamaliel, "must attribute their zeal in 
our case to a fervour of sanctity." 

"Fervour of sanctity" repeated Caiaphas to himself. "If that be it, 
I think the Sanhedrim are not lacking of it." 

Further converse between Gamaliel and Caiaphas was prevented by 
the entrance of Saul, who was followed by Judas at a small distance. 
The former made his approach to the High Priest, while the latter kept 
at a distance. Saul having made a very obsequious salutation, then 
turned to Gamaliel and saluted him also. Then erecting himself, he 
cast a fearless eye upon Caiaphas and awaited the word of reception. 

"Our Reverend brother informed us that thou wouldst be here about 
this hour," observed Caiaphas, in a courteous tone of voice. "I am 
glad to find thee so punctual, worthy Saul. Dost thou bring us any 
satisfactory information concerning our secret understanding?" 

"lam enabled to come before your sacred presence," replied Saul 
with great sweetness of tone, "to lay before your Reverence such an 
account of our enterprise as I think will meet your satisfaction. That 
much to be feared, yet magnanimous individual, Jesus, has been 
allowed to go to as great an extent as prudence will permit. His power 
extends over the minds of the people in every part of Judea and Galilee, 
and proselytes to his doctrines are being made every day — so that it 
may be fairly estimated that he can command fully a third of the popu- 
lation." 

"I see not the necessity for this course," observed Caiaphas. "It 
seems to me that thou hast done the very thing which we wished to 
prevent, in extending his doctrines and influence over the people." 

"This course of my polity," replied Saul, no wise disconcerted,. "has 
been an indirect way of accomplishing your wishes in the end. Al- 
though I sacrifice your wishes in one respect, yet I gain the end in view. 
You cannot do as you wish with this man in your Council of the San- 
hedrim, it will, therefore, be necessary to bring him within the grasp of 
our Roman Masters. Thus it is that I have made him a very popular 
man all over Judea and Galilee. Now, for any one to be popular and 
not be a Roman, is almost equal to the doom of death ; for it will take 
very little to make our Roman Masters believe that he is their enemy." 

Caiaphas and Gamaliel exchanged glances, with an expression as 
would say * Mark well the astuteness of Saul.' 

"Having accomplished this much," resumed Saul, "I caused my 
agents to persuade Jesus to return to Jerusalem, as I wished him to 
make himself popular here, so that I could bring the enterprise to a 
close. They accordingly came, and Jesus has been teaching in the 
temple for several days : many wonderful cures being reported in his 
name. But I must inform you that the most miraculous cures he is 
said to have produced, the credit is due to one of my agents, a very 
ingenious young man, who performs the parts of deaf, dumb, blind 
and deformed persons to the very nature. Judas, my principal agent, 
persuades Jesus to try his powers upon the man, whatever may be his 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 237 

pretended affliction. The cure is then very easily effected, when Jesus 
gets the credit and his popularity extends. There was a mysterious 
case that took place at Bethany, which has increased his fame more 
than anything he has ever done before." 

" Thou needest not relate the case of Lazarus," remarked Caiaphas, "I 
have heard it related, and I think I understand its nature." 

" Well," resumed Saul, " altogether his fame is very great in the city, 
and his power over the people is increasing accordingly. It now be- 
comes us to arrest his career, that he shall not get beyond our control." 

" In what way dost thou intend to accomplish that end?" inquired 
Caiaphas. 

" Since he gave that severe rebuke to your Sacred Order," replied 
Saul, " I have caused it to come to his ears that the Sanhedrim are de- 
termined to arrest him and charge him with many crimes, if he return 
to Jerusalem. And, I have managed that a council shall be held to- 
morrow evening by Jesus and his followers, to take into consideration 
what course to pursue. In this council, my agent will endeavour to per- 
suade him to retire for a time into privacy, or go to some distant country 
out of the authority of the Sanhedrim, where he may continue his teach- 
ings. While these matters are being discussed to-morrow night, I wish 
your Reverence to send an officer to Bethany with a letter of com- 
promise to Jesus, setting forth if he will forego his teaching and agitation 
in the city, all process of arrest shall be stopped, and that he shall have 
full liberty to go and come from the city without molestation. This 
offer on your part my agents shall persuade him to accept. Then comes 
the grand finale of my scheme, which shall put him into your power 
and finish my engagement. 

" When the terms of compromise are agreed upon, according to the 
tenor of your letter, then my agents shall not cease until they persuade 
Jesus to make one more visit to the city, to take a farewell of his friends. 
A great supper will be prepared at a certain place, where he shall meet 
and address them for the last time, and as! suspect, will bid them a last 
farewell. In the meantime, great preparations shall be made to give 
him a reception in the city different from what he will expect or wish. 
As this is the most important point, all our powers must be brought 
into use." 

" What kind of a reception is it that thou intendest he shall receive? " 
inquired Caiaphas, wondering. 

" We intend to hail him as King of Judea or Israel— the temporal and 
spiritual king, as promised by the prophets. I shall, also, employ some 
persons to tempt him to say something disrespectful of the Roman 
Emperor, or in opposition to his rule over us; if we succeed in this 
~espect it will be well, and if not it will be of no great matter. We shall 
be enabled to make out a case afterwards, which will arouse the tears 
and jealousy of our Roman Masters that will induce them to lake part 
with us in disposing of this man." 

44 Well, what is to be the final result of all this deep laid scheme?" 
inquired Caiaphas. 

44 The result must be," answered Saul, "that when at nighl lie is 
feasting and communing with his friends and followers, and Lhe u- 



238 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

mainder 01 tne citizens are in their peaceful homes, the Sanhedrim will 
receive word from my agent, when they must send their officers and 
arrest this Jesus. He will then be in their power, and a little more 
ingenuity will put him in the power of the Roman Governor." 

Caiaphas glanced inquiringly at Gamaliel, and said — 

" What thinks thou Gamaliel, of this addition to the scheming of thy 
friend Saul?" 

"I think, your Reverence," replied Gamaliel, seriously, "that it is a 
most consummate plan — will work effectively, and is worthy of its pro- 
pounder." 

" Worthy Saul," said the High Priest, after a few moments reflection, 
" We thank thee for thy past services ; from them we anticipate great 
results of deep interest to us. I must also express my admiration of 
the great skill and forethought thou hast displayed, in devising such an 
ingenious and consummate course of action— so efficient in producing our 
end in view. As well as a master mind in devising all this, thou must 
have a master man to act as thy agent in executing perfectly all thou 
designest. I should like to see this man of thine." 

"Your wish can be easily gratified, your Reverence, for the man is 
here," replied Saul. 

Then the latter went to Judas and brought him before the High 
Priest; when Judas made the fringe of his girdle touch the floor, so 
respectful and humble was his salutation. Then the glances of Caiaphas 
and Judas encountered each other, like two friendly wrestlers they con- 
tend for a time, as to which should prove the strongest ; at length Judas, 
in courtesy to the High Dignitary before him, averted his glance to the 
ground, when Caiaphas observed — 

" I perceive, worthy Judas, that thou art not a puling babe, but a 
man of strong mind, courage and perseverance." 

"I thank your Reverence for your compliment," replied Judas, with 
a slight curl of the lip. " Our merits are not altogether our own, as we 
are all depending upon one another for our good qualities, but as to our 
bad ones, no body will own them. If I have any good ones, the merit 
is due to my friend Saul, for I have been his pupil for some years." 

" It matters not who has been our tutor," rejoined Caiaphas, "we are 
entitled to the merit of our good actions, and as such, I thank and com- 
mend thee for the good service thou hast done us. Fail not to make 
thy demands upon our Treasurer in our name, whenever it shall suit 
thee to do so.' 
The parties then took leave of each other for the night. 



VISION TWENTY-SIXTH. 

Again, the Spirits, by their mystic powers, control the functions of my 

mind, renewing the scene of Bethany, with incidents of deep interest. 

Several days had now elapsed since the last visit of Jesus to the 

Temple, when he so severely rebuked the Scribes and Pharisees. Great 

had been the excitement through all Jerusalem ; great the indignation 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. XSU 

evinced by all the Priesthood and their adherents, and great were the 
apprehensions of the friends of Jesus. Though the latter w ure numerous, 
they were mostly of the poorer class, and consequently weak in com- 
parison to his enemies ; therefore, they were doubtful of being enabled 
to protect him, should he again visit the city. It was rumored about 
that the Sanhedrim had given authority to have him arrested as soon 
as he should make his appearance. His friends, therefore, sent him 
word of the state of affairs, advising him not to come to the city if he 
valued his safety. Jesus, on receiving this intelligence, was much 
grieved — not in consideration of himself but as to the check the object 
of his labors would receive at Jerusalem, by his absence. But on 
mature reflection, he saw that his cause would receive a greater blow if 
he allowed his enemies to take advantage of him and put him in 
duresse. "He thought it would be no more than prudent not to risk his 
personal safety ; he, therefore, resolved to make the house of Lazarus 
his home for a time, until something should be decided on among his 
followers. There was another consideration which had a slight in- 
fluence in producing this decision. Great and noble as were his exer- 
tions in the good cause he had undertaken, as he had sacrificed nearly 
every earthly prospect to it — yet there was one earthly hope and pros- 
pect he looked to and sighed for. It was the hope of earthly bliss he 
entertained, in the consummation of his love, when he should be united 
to Mary, the daughter of Lazarus. When he was in eager pursuit of 
his labors the idea did not cross his mind, but now he found himself 
checked and baffled, "would it not be as wise," he thought, "to resign 
from my labors at present and settle down in domestic happiness with 
Mary." 

In the meantime, the followers of Jesus had been scattered in all 
directions. Some of them having returned to their homes, and others 
were at different places in the vicinity of the city. Judas and Peter being 
the only persons who then attended upon their Master, through them all 
notices were transmitted and all other regulations carried into effect. 

Since the last interview with the High Priest, Saul and Judas had 
agreed on what further proceedings were necessary to achieve their 
diabolical designs. Several interviews had x^assed between them, and 
Judas had passed frequently to and fro between the city and Bethany, 
having had many private discourses with Jesus. At length something 
definite was decided on. Messengers were sent to all the followers and 
to some private friends, to meet at Bethany on a certain night, when a 
supper would be prepared for them, then they could prepare and de- 
termine upon their future proceedings. Accordingly the time arrived, 
when the following scene and incidents form the subject of the present 
vision. 



The sun had descended behind Mount Olivet and the shades of evening 
began to overshadow the humble village of Bethany, winch was built in 
the cleft of the mountain, when an air of great bustle and importance 
was visible within and without the dwelling of Lazarus, All the 
followers, and some disciples of Jesus had arrived. Some of them wero 
in discourse with their Master, while others were strolling about tho 



240 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

yard or garden, awaiting the time when they were to assemble around 
the supper table. 

Within the centre of the public room was a long table covered with a 
white cloth, with a raised form on either side, covered with cushions, 
having ample space for about twenty persons to sit or recline at their 
ease. Mary and Martha were there, arranging the vessels and pro- 
visions as fast as two female servants could bring them in. Plates 
were arranged along the outer edge of the table at equal distances, and 
large dishes containing bread, fruit and vegetables along the centre, with 
smaller vessels intervening, containing salt and other condiments, and 
at one end of trie table was a large metal dish, which was intended to 
receive the roast kid, which was to be served at the last minute. When 
all things seemed to have received their appropriate place, Martha gave 
one more glance along the table to see if there was anything lacking, 
when she suddenly exclaimed — 

" Mary, my dear sister, we have forgotten the flowers ! What shall 
we do?" 

" The flowers ! " echoed Mary, with a start, "why we must have them. 
Do thou get the vases ready and I will hasten to the garden and gather 
some directly. They are the silent offerings of my affection, which I 
will place before the man I love. I would rather forget anything else 
than that," added Mary, as she left the room and betook her way to the 
garden. 

Mary, having gained the garden, with a step as buoyant and nimble 
as a young gazel, bounded along the path to the farther end, which 
was terminated by a thick hedge of prickly pear ; then she stooped 
down to cull the flowers of her choice, which were growing in an orna- 
mented parterre which was close to the latter, when she thought she 
heard the voices of men close by. At first she looked round with inno- 
cent surprise, but as the voices continued and she distinguished the 
name of Jesus, a suspicion and a dread seized upon her mind. She 
ceased culling the flowers, remaining for a few moments breathless and 
motionless, as a multitude of fearful thoughts passed through her mind. 
Then, suddenly regaining courage, she softly crept close to the hedge, 
which formed an embankment of earth about three feet from the ground, 
on the summit of which grew a thick planting of prickly pear and other 
shrubs, closely knitted together with creeping vines. She discovered 
that there were two persons on the other side, seated on the ground, who 
were conversing in audible tones, though not loud. She listened with 
an increased keenness of sense, not from an idle and mischievous 
curiosity, but from a conviction that one more dear to her than herself 
was in danger, when she heard the following discourse: 

"Tell me, Judas," said one of the voices, "what part thou expectest 
me to perform this night, for the whole affair is so complicated I cannot 
see clearly through it." 

"Peter," the other voice answered, "thou art rather dull of compre- 
hension this evening, I think if thou hadst the goat-skin bottle here it 
would sharpen thy wit. Now mark well, Peter, what I say. It matters 
not much what subjects may be discussed to-night, or what resolves 
may be made, provided one thing be agreed on. If we agree to break 



II 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 241 

up the party and return to our homes, or if we agree to continue the 
good cause, as it is called, in another country, it will be all the same to 
us. But there is one thing thou and I, with the aid of others, must per- 
suade him to: that is, whatever course we shall agree upon, we must 
persuade him to make one more visit to the city, to take leave of his 
friends and address them for the last time. If it is possible we must 
make him go to-morrow, for everything is being prepared for his recep- 
tion, and the banquet to be given at night; then our work will be 
finished. Now dost thou understand, Peter ? " 

Mary did not stay to hear any more, for she thought she had heard 
enough to convince her that there was treachery of some kind intended 
towards the man she loved — that man for whom she was willing to give 
up her life if required. With the few flowers she had gathered, and a 
quick, stealthy step, she left the treacherous spot, when having retreated 
unobserved about midway in the garden, she ran the remainder and 
entered the house. What to do she knew not at the time. She was 
harrassed with conflicting thoughts, knowing there would be no oppor- 
tunity of making a disclosure to Jesus at that particular crisis, for all 
the company were waiting with keen appetites for the feast. At length 
she placed the flowers in the two vases, which she placed midway upon 
the table — it being the spot assigned to the master of the feast. Martha 
observed that Mary was pale and seemed discouraged. She inquired 
of her sister what was the matter, but the latter making some excuse, 
did not choose to divulge what she had heard. 

At length, the smoking fat roast kid was placed upon the big dish, 
cut up into a thousand pieces ; then the signal was given that the feast 
was ready, when Jesus, preceeded by old Lazarus carrying a lamp, 
and followed by Judas and Peter, was escorted to a seat at the table, 
which happened to be in the middle, between the vases of flowers. 
John, and James his brother, took their positions on either side of 
Jesus — the former on the right, and the latter on the left. Judas and 
Peter sat together on the opposite side of the table, and all the others 
took up the remaining places at their choice. When all were seated, 
Jesus took some bread and salt, which he held up and solemnly invoked 
God's blessing upon the repast they were about to partake, then the 
process of eating roast kid and other good things commenced. 

Jesus ate like a man of prudence and intelligence ought to eat, — not 
with the desire of gratifying his palate, or to satisfy any inordinate 
habit, but just sufficient to satisfy the demands of exhausted nature: 
and he made choice of the plainest and most simple of the food set 
before him. During the meal he took a cup of water, and after the 
meal, his custom was to take one cup of wine. Having satisfied the 
demands of his hunger, he reclined back upon his seat, awaiting the 
termination of the repast of his companions. 

All the powers of Judas were concentrated in his brains, in thinking 
how he should work out the designs of his fellow conspirator, Saul ; so 
that very little active force was assigned to his stomach ; he accordingly 
made a short and hasty meal. John, also, made a short and delicate 
repast; for his mind being occupied of late in the const ruction of 1 
new poem of a very grave and mystical character, he had very little 
16 



242 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

time and inclination to dwell upon the grosser elements requisite to the 
stomach, so that he forsook his platter and washed his fingers. But 
Peter, perceiving that three of the company had withdrawn from the 
table, felt ashamed that he had been so dilatory in not having half ac- 
complished his repast. He thought, however, he would make the best 
of the remaining time, so he re-applied himself with renewed vigour. 
Soon the contents of his platter vanished, when he vociferated to the 
servants for more kid. Peter's example was followed by the rest of 
the feasters, every one vieing with his neighbour in the rapid motions 
of his jaws, and the celerity with which he caused to disappear the 
enormous quantities of viand, fruit, bread and vegetables. Kid, kid, 
kid, resounded from one end of the room to the other, so that the at- 
tendants were kept running to and fro between the guests and the big 
dish, until the kid entirely disappeared. 

At length, all the company finished their repast, and washed their 
fingers in basins of water which were carried around by the servants, 
when the latter proceeded to remove the platters, dishes, and fragments 
of the feast; after which, they placed a cup opposite to every guest and 
filled it with wine. It was the custom for every guest to wait till the 
head person at the feast should take up his cup of wine to taste or drink, 
before any one else should do so. Jesus took up his cup and was about 
placing it to his lips, when an incident occurred which produced great 
surprise and some confusion. A female entered the room, covered with 
a long white veil, when, having approached Jesus, she crouched down 
before him. All present looked on with much astonishment, not being 
able to guess what was her intention ; but Judas and Peter regarded 
her with a degree of suspicious uneasiness, and they would much rather 
she had not come. 

"What wouldst thou, fair maiden?" inquired Jesus of the female. 

" I wish for thy blessing, and permission to testify my regard for 
thee," responded Mary in a most suppliant tone of voice — for she it was. 

"Thou shalt have both, fair maiden," answered Jesus. 

Then he placed his hand upon her head and blessed her. Then Mary, 
rising, took from her bosom a small ornamented vase, containing a 
precious oil of great fragrance, which she began to sprinkle and rub 
into the hair of Jesus with delicacy of action and manner. 

"What means this indelicate intrusion?" demanded Judas in an 
authoritative and surly tone of voice, addressing himself rather to the 
whole company than to any person in particular. But Jesus, taking 
the matter upon himself, made answer : 

"Judas," he said in a mild yet serious tone of voice, "there needs no 
rebuke in this matter. The damsel comes here with an innocent and 
kind intent — to testify her regard for me and gain my good will. She 
is the daughter of our host, and as such is priviledged above all others." 

" I think," returned Judas sulkily, " the damsel had better have saved 
ner money for another purpose, or given it to the poor, than to have 
bought that costly ointment." 

" Cease; I command thee," said Jesus imperatively, as he cast a stern 
and indignant glance upon Judas. "Thy words are impudent and 
ill timed." 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 243 

Judas replaced himself in his seat, somewhat mortified at being thus 
rebuked in presence of the whole company. There was now a general 
silence for a few minutes, for an unpleasant feeling had been aroused 
among all present. In the meantime, Mary continued to anoint the 
hair of Jesus, and as she smoothed and rubbed it, she brought her 
mouth close to his ear, when she whispered — 

"Beware of Traitors in this company. Go not to Jerusalem" Then 
she made a hasty obeisance and left the room. 

Jesus slightly started on hearing the warning voice, but immediately 
perceiving the impropriety of making it known, he collected all his 
powers and assumed as placid a countenance as possible, yet he was 
much troubled. "What can it mean? Whom does she mean?" he 
said to himself, and then a train of suspicions was passing through his 
mind, from which he was aroused by the voice of Peter, who said — 
■ "If the master please to recollect, we have not tasted wine yet." 

"Ah! Peter," answered Jesus smiling, "I see thou hast a true friend- 
ship for the j uice of the grape, for thou never forgettest it. I have been 
forgetful, but I will make amends to thee." 

Then, taking up his cup of wine, he drank a portion, when the ex- 
ample was followed by all present, and the discourse was resumed. 
Some minutes were passsed in general discourse on important subjects, 
when, at length, old Nathaniel with his bell-shaped head, observed 
that "He had lately seen in the north-west 6f Galilee, some itinerant 
preachers and doctors, as they professed to be, who presumed to teach 
the doctrines of Jesus, and undertook to produce certain cures by 
working through faith. This power they pretended to have derived 
from Jesus, and every itinerant had a book which, they said, contained 
his doctrines as delivered from his mouth." 

This statement of old Nathaniel greatly surprised the whole company, 
and some, especially Peter, felt indignant that anybody out of the 
company should undertake to do what they did, without authority. 
They began to fear that they should lose their business and influence 
among the people. But there was another idea this relation suggested, 
which gave them more gratification. They saw that as certain itinerants 
could go about the country, preaching the doctrines of Jesus, and pro- 
ducing cures, they certainly could do the same; therefore they did not 
feel so dependent on their master as they did a few minutes before. 
"Should anything happen to deprive them of Jesus," they thought, 
"they could easily start on the business by themselves, for they could 
preach what they had learned from his mouth, and produce cures by 
touch and through faith." These ideas were not openly expressed, but 
conveyed from one to the other by whispers and hints, so they were 
generally understood. 

Jesus remarked upon this matter, that "He did not wish to restrict 
any one in preaching his doctrines or in working cures, if they had the 
power to do so; for he would be glad if they were spread all over the 
world. But he was afraid that those itinerants would lead the people 
into many errors, and say many foolish things in his nanu\ He, there- 
fore, desired that the people should discountenance all teachers who 
could not show authority from him." 



244 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Judas having heard this subject discussed to the end, rose and said: 

"Will the Master please to inform the brethren what the purport is 
of our assembling? " 

Then Jesus rose from his seat and stood erect, when casting a glance 
around the company, intimating his intention to address them, he spoke 
as follows : 

" My dear brethren and fellow associates : I presume you are partially 
aware of the critical circumstances by which we are surrounded — the 
difficulties and dangers which menace us in the prosecution of our 
good cause. To take this into consideration, and decide what shall be 
our best course for the future, is the object we have to consider at this 
meeting. After you have discussed this matter, I shall be influenced 
according to what I perceive to be your inclinations, rather than by 
any I have of my own ; for I shall consider it to be my duty to sacrifice 
my own inclinations, as I have always done, to your interests and 
pleasure — provided our good cause is always paramount in your 
thoughts and designs. Grieved as I am at the thought of the dangers 
that menace us, yet it is a source of gratification to me in one respect- 
It is evident our labors have not been in vain. The great body of the 
Priesthood, the Sanhedrim, is at last aroused. That vile body of knaves 
and imposters are up in arms against us, and why ? They perceive 
that a light has been shed over all Judea and Galilee, by which the 
people have been enabled to see the gross ignorance and mental slavery 
to which they have been bound by their vile priestly rulers. Thou- 
sands, tens, and hundreds of thousands of the people have already 
shook off the trammels of priestly superstition. Thousands of new 
born aspirants to truth, hail the prospect of a general emancipation 
from the mental slavery imposed upon them by their barbarous an- 
cestors. The minds of the people have been aroused; their united 
voices begin to murmer like the low rumble of the distant thunder, 
which announces that a storm is nigh. The pinnacles of the mighty 
temple begin to totter, and the Holy Priesthood to tremble; for the 
latter are afraid the former will fall with a mighty crash, and bury 
them in its ruins. This, then, is the cause why our enemies are up and 
opposed to us, endeavouring to thwart our proceedings. They think 
to destroy our good cause and work by aiming their shafts of enmity 
at me, aiming at my destruction ; and should they achieve that point, 
they will extend their persecutions to all of you. I shall not quail at 
any dangers that menace me, for, from the commencement of my 
labors, I resolved to devote all my energies, time and worldly goods 
to the cause I uphold, and now, I am willing to sacrifice my life, if it 
be necessary. No, my brethen; if I have a fear, it is for you and the 
good cause of our labors. Should our enemies prevail over me, they 
will assuredly extend the same persecution to you, and perhaps to the 
many thousands who have shaken off their priestly yokes. These 
probable results are to be considered, and our future proceedings made 
with prudence and caution. If I go up to Jerusalem, my enemies are 
ready to lay hold of me — throw me into prison, and perhaps aim at my 
life. Therefore it behooves me, on whom the prosperity and safety of 
our cause depend, not to risk this venture of mv personal safety. What, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 245 

then, shall we decide upon doing? That is the subject of our con- 
sideration. I can see but two courses to choose from ; for neither of 
which will I express any preference, that you may unbiasly select that 
one which you may think most acceptable to you. The first is: we 
may depart for a distant country, where we may labor in our cause 
free from the molestations of our present enemies. The other is: we 
may abandon our labors in the good cause, and separate for the present, 
every one to his home, or to some other place of retirement, until the 
times and circumstances shall be more favourable to our endeavours. 
One of these two courses we must adopt; I shall, therefore, leave it to 
your free choice as to which it shall be, and which ever you may decide 
upon, you may expect to receive my assent." 

Jesus having ended his address, re-seated himself, then placing his 
hand over his eyes he waited in a reflective mood for some one to respond 
to his words. The greater part of the company commenced a low, 
muttering conversation, while Judas and Peter conversed in low words 
and significant glances. But before any general understanding took 
place, John rose from his seat, when it was immediately suspected that 
he was going to make a speech. John cast his glance around the com- 
pany, then uplifting his eyes, with a solemn expression of countenance, 
he seemed as though he were under some supernal influence. 

" John seems to be in one of his poetical rhapsodies^" observed Judas 
to Peter, in a whisper. " Open thy ears, Peter, thou wilt hear some- 
thing sublime, no doubt." 

44 My dear brethren," said John, in a shrill voice, "last night I had a 
dream.* If it were not a dream, it was a vision, and if it were not a 
vision, I know not what it was." 

" Perhaps he took a cup of wine too much," observed Judas to Peter, 
with a sneer. 

" Yes, it must have been a vision," resumed John, "for I heard a 
voice behind me, as though coming through a brass trumpet, which 
said, * I am the First and the Last, the two ends, and the middle of all 
things ; I was before there was anything in existence ; I am all in all 
of the Present, and shall be when there will be nothing. Now John, 
what thou seest and nearest, write in a book, that all mankind may read 
and understand.' And behold! I looked up, when I saw a beacon on 
a hill burning brightly in the surrounding darkness, and there were 
several men who furnished fresh fuel for the flames, working merrily 
and zealously. Then there was a great convulsion in the heavens, with 
thunder and lightning ; then a troop of demons came out of the darkness 
and approached the front of the hill, with the intent of extinguishing 
the beacon; they shouted and shrieked, endeavouring to frighten the 
tenders away, but they could not, for more fuel was added and brighter 
grew the flames. Then the demons cast water upon it without avail, for 
the flames grew higher and brighter, spreading all over the heavens and 
dispelling the darkness. Then the demons became discomforted, tor 
they could not abide the light, and they all ran away howling," John 
paused. 

"Now, brethren/ 1 resumed John, after relating his vision. "What 
does this vision portend ? The beacon is our good Ma ster, .1 1 bus, spread- 



246 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

ing his pure light amidst the surrounding darkness of the people ; we 
are the tenders, who by our labours are enabled to spread that light and 
increase its greatness, and the demons are our enemies, who will finally 
be overthrown and dispersed by that light. Therefore, it is my opinion, 
brethren, that we keep united and continue this good work, even if we 
have to journey into a far country." 

John sat down, when casting his regards around he encountered a 
look from Jesus which seemed to express an approval. 

Some few minutes were passed in exchange of whispers and looks 
between Judas and Peter, when at length, the latter rose to address the 
company. 

"Brethren and fellow workers," said Peter in an easy off-handed 
manner — for be it remembered he had much improved in understanding 
and speech, since he used to relate his big fish story at Bethsaida — "it 
is natural enough for our brother John to be influenced by dreams and 
visions through the supernaturals, for understanding of a matter, when 
he cannot find it in his own mind. It seems natural to me when I 
have no money in my girdle, to cast an eye upon the girdles of others. 
So it is similar with brother John. When he finds he has not an idea 
in his head by day to answer a question, he resorts to the wild phantasies 
of a night dream to make good his deficiences. But here is a matter 
concerning our present and future safety, which must not be decided 
by dreams and visions, but by sober present thought and cool judgment. 
The question is, shall we continue our accustomed course of labors in 
some other country, or shall we break up and retire? I feel no hesita- 
tion in saying that we ought to do the latter. We have been following 
our beloved master near upon three years, and what have we accom- 
plished to our benefit? I doubt not that every one of you, like myself, 
have been disappointed in your expectations. It is true the people have 
received much benefit, and in course of time the world at large may be 
much bettered; but I think it not natural or just that the laborers who 
undergo all the toil to do all the good, should not have a remuneration 
for their services. Now what have we received for our toils and sweats, 
but insults and deprivations ; and now we are in danger of losing our 
liberties and our lives. I do not speak in this maimer with the intent 
of attaching any blame to our beloved master, for if there be any to 
blame it must be ourselves, in entertaining expectations that cannot be 
realized in conformity with our master's principles. No; our master 
is every thing he professes himself to be, and no words that I could 
utter would speak his full merit." 

Jesus, who had been attentively listening to Peter's speech, was much 
astonished at his open avowal, that he and some of the others had been 
disappointed in their expectations in following him. He now began to 
perceive that the souls and hearts of his followers were not in the good 
cause, but that they hankered after worldly gains and distinctions. 
This sudden understanding of things filled him with sadness and alarm. 
He now thought of the warning voice of Mary. That there were some 
traitors in the company he felt almost convinced, which made him cast 
an eye of distrust on all around him; and when Peter referred to him 
in laudatory terms, he loathed the very sound as well as the significa- 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 247 

tion of the words. Suddenly extending his hand towards Peter, he 
observed in a deprecatory tone of voice : 

"Peter, if thou lovest me, thou wilt not speak of mo in that strain.'* 

Peter looked up to Jesus with seeming unfeigned astonishment before 
he replied. He thought by the manner in which his master addressed 
him, Jesus had no longer any confidence in him ; he, therefore, became 
alarmed. At length, assuming his usually simple and candid expression 
of countenance, he replied : 

"Didst thou doubt, O my master, the love of honest Peter?" 

Jesus made no answer, but covered his eyes with his hands, seeming 
to be undergoing distressing emotions. 

"God of my Fathers!" exclaimed Peter in a loud voice, as he seized 
his beard with both hands, which he gave a tremendous pull, tearing 
out some of the hairs and then scattering them upon the ground. 
" Have I lived to this day, to have my love and loyalty doubted by the 
very man I love the most. O, my beloved master ! thou knowest I 
love thee. If thou canst not believe the words of honest Peter, look to 
his acts. See what I have sacrificed to follow thee. Was I not a wealthy 
fisherman by the beautiful waters of Genesareth, and the principal 
man in the whole village of Bethsaida, until thou madest me a fisher- 
of-men? Have I not forsaken that beautiful lake — that neat little vil- 
lage—my three boats — my nets and fishing hooks? Have I not for- 
saken all to follow thee? and yet thou doubtest whether I love thee." 

How long Peter would have continued in this strain is not known, 
had not Jesus desired him to be at peace, for he was satisfied as regards 
his loyalty and love. He then put the question to his followers, whether 
they would follow him into a distant country to prosecute the good 
cause, when all were opposed to it, with the exception of John. Then 
he put the question, should they break up, and every one retire to his 
home or elsewhere? This was answered in the affirmative, with the 
same exception. Then John left his seat and threw himself upon the 
neck of Jesus, when they both shed tears of sympathy and regret. 

There was a pause and silence for a few minutes, for the affecting 
scene between John and Jesus had impressed the whole company with 
sad'feelings. At length, this unpleasant scene was terminated by the 
entrance of old Lazarus, who, with some degree of alarm depicted on 
his countenance, announced that there was a messenger from the palace 
of Caiaphas, who desired to be admitted to present a letter to Jesus. 
This announcement filled every one with surprise and unpleasant 
feelings: none more so than Judas and Peter, who by their sundry 
exclamations, expressed their wonder as to what it could mean. After 
a short consultation, Jesus gave orders for the messenger to be admitted, 
when Lazarus left the room. In a few moments the latter returned, 
followed by an elderly man who was dressed in the priestly garb, 
with certain insignia, denoting that he was an officer of tin' palace. 
As soon as he entered, he made a respectful obeisance and then said in 
a firm and distinct tone of voice: 

"I am commissioned by his most high Reverence, Caiaphas. the 
High Priest of the Holy Temple, to place a letter into the hands of the 
man called Jesus, and when its contents are read, I am desired to re- 
ceive what answer he may deem proper to send." 



248 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

The officer then presented the letter to Jesus, which was a small 
scroll tied round with a silken string, and a large seal of wax suspended 
to it. Jesus received the letter, and told the officer to retire until he 
should be recalled to receive his answer. The latter retired accordingly. 
Jesus then broke the string of the scroll, unrolled it and read it to 
himself, and then reflected for a few moments, while all the company 
seemed excited to the highest pitch of curiosity to know its contents. 
At length, handing the letter to Peter, he said — 

"Peter, read that letter to the company, that we may form some 
opinion of its contents, and be enabled to send an answer." 

"My dear master," replied Peter, "I never read or wrote a letter in 
my life, I have always been too busy to learn. I have always been 
employed in catching fish or catching men, that I have had no time to 
catch the meaning of these hieroglyphics. There is brother Matthew, 
he is a great scholar, for he always has his ink horn and reed in his 
girdle. He can read the letter, no doubt." 

The letter was then handed to Matthew, who rising from his seat, 
made sundry formal preparations, and gave several significant leers 
and hems to draw the attention of the company to the important task 
entrusted to him to execute. At length, he read it in a loud, distinct 
and important tone of voice : — 

"Palace of the Sanhedrim. 
Caiaphas to the man called Jesus. This comes greeting. 

Brother in the flesh, peace be unto thee and to all under thy com- 
mand, in the name of the Lord Jehovah. 

Certain rumors have come to my ears that thou, from misconception 
or from some other cause unknown to me, hast been preaching certain 
doctrines in the precincts of our Holy Temple, which transgress the 
Mosaical law, and hold up to ridicule and contempt the sacred rites 
and ceremonies of our sacred institutions. And furthermore, that thou 
hast inveighed against and scandalized our Sacred Order of Priesthood. 
These direful transgressions have been borne with for a long time by 
the Sacred Council of the Sanhedrim, without proceeding against thee 
in any manner, thinking that with time, thou wouldst be enabled to 
see the error of thy ways. But now the Council are much exasperated 
against thee, and are determined to arrest thy course by punishing thee 
according to the powers they possess. Therefore, as I wish to be lenient 
to thee, and enable thee to avoid the penalty of thy conduct, I send 
thee this letter, proposing to shield thee from all harm, if thou wilt 
pledge thy word of truth that thou wilt cease thy teachings in the 
temple, and withdraw from the neighbourhood of the city. Send me 
thy word of truth to this effect, then thou and thy followers shall be 
free of any arrest within or without the city for the time of ten days, 
which will be allowed thee and thy followers, if thou and they should 
wish to pass to and fro on matters of business, or .to take a farewell of 
thy friends. Let this be a compact between us, and may God speed 
thee in all just ways." 

Caiaphas. 

This letter seemed to have made a favourable impression on all of the 
company with the exception of Jesus, for he began to be mistrustful 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 249 

of all around him, and of all that transpired. The warning voire of 
Mary still rang in his ears, but as he had promised to conform to their 
wishes and inclinations, he could not oppose them in this single matter 
without showing some reasonable cause ; he was, therefore, compelled 
to be guided by their opinions. 

"What is thy opinion of this letter, and our action thereon?" he in- 
quired of Judas, as he knew the latter to have a keener wit and clearer 
perception than the rest of his followers ; he, therefore, placed more 
confidence in his opinion. 

"As my Master honours me by asking mo the first for an opinion, I 
will give it with all sincerity," replied Judas, with great deference of 
manner. "It is this, I think thou and all of us ought to accept of the 
favourable terms his Reverence has thought proper to offer us." 

The opinion of Peter and all the rest were to the same end, so that 
Jesus had no alternative but to coincide with the others. He then 
ordered the officer to be sent for to receive his answer, and when he 
made his appearance Jesus spoke to him as follows : 

" Tell Caiaphas, the High Priest, that I, Jesus, having taken counsel 
with my followers, have agreed to accept of the proposals contained in 
the letter, and that we give our solemn word of truth to conform thereto, 
according to the requests made therein." 

This answer being considered all that was required, the officer made 
his obeisance and departed. 

As soon as the officer was gone, Judas rose from his seat to address 
Jesus and the company. He seemed considerably excited, for in the 
importance of the measures he was about to propose, he was naturally 
anxious and worried, so that his usually cool and steady demeanor was 
not at his command. However, with a great effort he prevented his 
master from detecting his wicked intentions. At length, with a slight 
hesitancy and tremulous voice, he said : 

"If my worthy master please, and the brethren generally, I wish to 
make somo suggestions. It has been decided in this assemby to-night, 
that the union of our brethren and their obligations as followers of our 
worthy master, shall be dissolved for the present— that every member 
shall be at liberty to return to his home, or go wheresoever he please. 
It behooves us, therefore, to consider in what manner and when we 
shall sunder our ties of brotherhood as a body ; for some manner of 
regular proceeding is necessary, in order to give satisfaction to our 
brethren present, and to do what is right and seemly in the eyes of our 
numerous disciples and adherents who reside at Jerusalem, and those, 
as well, spread throughout the country. It will not be commendable 
or convenient to dissolve this union now, and at this place ; such a pro- 
ceeding will be productive of many inconveniences. Besides, it will 
give cause to our enemies to spread many disreputable reports injurious 
to our characters and detrimental to our cause. No; such proceedings 
would not be to our interests or honor, but would detract very much 
from our glory. We must have a little more time to make all necessary 
arrangements— to call our friends and adherents together, that we may 
give them a just understanding of the true nature of the causes and 
reasons for which we have resolved upon this measure. But how, when, 



250 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

and where is this to be done? They are the next points of our con- 
sideration. I must acknowledge that not more than an hour ago, I 
could not conceive how these points were to be achieved. I knew the 
proper place ought to be the city.. ' But how,' I said to myself, * can we 
accomplish this when we are surrounded by dangers, and the very life 
of our master menaced by our enemies?' These questions were an- 
swered quite satisfactorily, when the officer, who has just departed, 
brought the letter from the High Priest, making the liberal proposals 
as are therein stated. We now have no occasion to fear for our safety, 
neither for our master or ourselves. Upon the pledged word of the 
High Priest, we may go to Jerusalem without molestation, — call around 
us all our disciples and friends— explain to them the nature of our 
circumstances — settle our affairs, and make any other arrangements 
we choose ; and after exhorting them to remain true to the good cause, 
take an affectionate farewell of them. I will now propose, if it will 
meet the approbation of our master and my brethren, that in three 
days from the present, our brethren here present shall assemble at this 
house to escort our master to the city, where his friends and disciples 
will be ready to receive him, and testify their admiration and gratitude 
for his inestimable services. Our ovation shall then terminate at night 
by a feast, to which none but the most prominent friends shall be ad- 
mitted. After that, I shall proceed to render an account of my steward- 
ship, and divide the remainder of our joint stock of money among the 
brethren. I am happy to inform my brethren that not long since, I 
received a donation of a hundred shekels of silver ; thus the amount to 
be distributed is greater than would be generally supposed." Judas 
sat down. 

As Judas progressed in his speech, the brethren were somewhat 
divided in their opinion about the proposed final meeting at Jerusalem. 
Some were doubtful of their safety, in spite of the letter from the High 
Priest to the contrary. But when they heard Judas speak of the dis- 
tribution of the common funds and the donation he had received, all 
their minds were made up in a second. Judas knew the nature of their 
sordid souls : he had only to. shake his money bag at them and promise 
them the contents, when he could carry any point he wished with them. 

Jesus was quite indifferent to all that was said and decided on, after 
he knew the bent of their inclinations. He listened to the speech of 
Judas, but made no objections; neither did he exhibit any pleasure at 
what was proposed. He seemed to have fallen into a state of apathy, 
or rather of disgust for all around him, and anxiously wished for the 
termination of the meeting. 

Then Peter addressed the brethren in a few words, expressing his 
approbation of the measures proposed by Judas, and asked them to 
testify their refusal or approbation of them ; which they accordingly 
did by unanimously voting an approval of them. Then Peter desired 
Jesus to express his approval or rejection of the proposals. Jesus rose, 
and with his eyes gently closed, in a mild tone of voice, he said: 

" My dear brethren, I have before expressed to you this evening, that 
all measures discussed and adopted by you at this meeting, I shall 
assent and conform to. I repeat the same, concerning the measures 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 251 

proposed by Judas. If they meet your views and wishes, I am willing 
to assent to them and comply with your requests; I, therefore, have 
nothing more to say upon the subject. How these measures are to be 
accomplished, I must refer you to Judas, for he will know best how to 
achieve what he has proposed.'' ' 

Judas was therefore appointed to make all needful arrangements, 
and thus terminated the meeting. The assembly broke up, whei the 
brethren departed their several ways. 



VISION TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

Now, the Spirits exert their supernal sway over the functions of my 
7tiind,from which they cause to rise a moving panorama of scenery, 
vast, beautiful and magnificent ! — gliding gently before the mental 
gaze, like a thin summer cloud passing along the vault of heaven. — 
The various objects of each particular locality appearing in sue- 
cession, as the inward eye passes over the continuous route from 
Bethany to the Temple of Jerusalem. 

Three days had elapsed since the events transpired as represented in 
the last vision. The sun had risen high in the heavens, denoting that 
it was about noon. The day was bright, clear, and fragrant with sweet 
odours, and the foliage of the mountain sceneiy was beautiful to the 
sight. The palm tree was in its full bloom. 

This was the day appointed by Judas for Jesus to make his last visit 
to Jerusalem, under the false representation to receive the addresses 
and condolence of his disciples and friends— the expression of their 
grateful and loving hearts, and to sympathize with each other in the 
fears and hopes pertaining to their good cause. 

Judas, under the direction of Saul, made great preparations for this 
day, as they intended to play their most important part, to entrap tbeir 
virtuous and unconscious victim into the meshes of their iniquitous 
designs. A great deal of money had been expended in bribing certain 
persons to perform acts, deemed necessary to their scheme of treachery ; 
also, for the sumptuous provision of an evening banquet— so that no 
labor or expense had been spared to render sure their contemplated plol . 

There was a great number of people assembled in the Villa; 
Bethany, all attired in their best and cleanest clothing. The greater 
part were thronging around the residence of Lazarus, most of whom 
carried in their hands branches of the palm tree. All of the followers 
of Jesus were there, dressed in white vestments, with girdles and 
mantles of various colors, and their heads were enveloped in handsome 
tires formed of blue and white linens, wreathed around a bine centre 
covering. Judas and Peter being busy in superintending the arrange- 
ments. In front of the yard gate there was a handsome grey mule, the 
body of which was covered With a scarlet cloth, and its head decorated 
with slips of the palm tree. Upon this beast it was intended that JesUS 



252 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

should make his entry into the eity, that he might not be thronged or 
pressed by the people, and every body should be enabled to see him. 

All were ready and anxious for the departure, excepting Mary and 
Jesus, who were in the garden conversing. He, upon this occasion, 
had changed his ordinary dress for one of white, with a blue girdle ; 
his head being covered with a superb tire of blue and white linen. His 
mien was pensively grave, as with tender expressions he endeavoured 
to give assurance and consolation to the distressed Mary, who was 
leaning upon his arm, as she looked up to him with tears in her eyes 
and an expression of sorrow in her countenance. 

"My dearest Josey she said, sobbingly, "I have never opposed or 
contravened thy wishes before, for I always deferred to thy superior 
wisdom ; but in this case, I feel strong in my convictions that if thou 
goest to the city this day, thou wilt meet with treachery and destruction. 
Was not the traitorous conversation I heard, enough? Why, then, wilt 
thou voluntarily throw thyself into the arms of thy enemies? " 

"If it were possible, dear Mary," replied Jesus, much affected, "I 
would comjDly with thy wishes. No earthly influeuce could be greater 
with me than thy sweet endearing voice. But, Mary, if I fail to per- 
form my duty and promises this day, I shall sacrifice all the good 
reputation I have gained among my people, and I shall fail giving 
support to that cause for which I have labored." 

"What matters all this in comparison to the sacrifice thou wilt make, 
if thou becomest the prey of thy enemies?" asked Mary. "Thou 
may est intend to do one thing, but thy enemies will work it that thou 
shalt do another. What dependence hast thou to do anything of thine 
own wish, when thou art surrounded by wicked men who will make thee 
do another? What confidence or trust is there to be placed in traitors?" 

"It is possible, Mary," answered Jesus, "that thy construction of 
those men's words may be a wrong one, and if we knew all they might 
admit of another meaning. It seems my followers are discontented, 
and afraid to continue their labors with me, and that they wish for a 
dissolution of the brotherhood. This I have consented to, and when 
we assemble this evening at the banquet, it will be for the last time, for 
then I shall resign all claim to their services. It is possible, Mary, that 
when thou didst hear Judas and Peter say that [ If they could persuade 
me to consent to this measure, that their task would be finished,' they 
had reference to the dissolution of our brotherhood ; but as thou didst 
not hear all that was said, it seemed a traitorous design to thee." 

"I know not what they had reference to, dear Jose," replied Mary, 
as again the tears coursed down her beautiful cheeks ; "but I feel con- 
vinced from that and other instances, that they are conspirators and 
traitors to thee. If they have not already betrayed thee to thy enemies, 
some unaccountable presentiment tells me they will do it. Therefore, 
my beloved Jose, if thou valuest the love of thy Mary — that love which 
was engendered in my heart from the days of my early childhood, and 
which has been cherished and expanded to an intensely holy passion 
for thee — O ! by this holy tie, which unites our hearts in tender sympa- 
thies, I beseech thee to comply with my request: to forbear this in- 
tended visit to the city to-day." 






JESUS OF NAZARETH. 253 

11 O, Mary! Mary!" exclaimed Jesus, with great emotions of distress. 
"Dear maiden of my earthly affections, spare me from complying with 
thy request. Thou knowest that of all thing* on earth whereon a man 
cculd look for happiness, all my hopes, dependance and love are cen- 
tred in thee. My love for thee is without measure, making me sub- 
servient to thy will in nearly all respects; yet there is a love and duty 
w T hich I must acknowledge, is of more paramount importance than the 
earthly love w T hich unites us in heart — I mean my duty to God and my 
fellow men. These, Mary, take the precedence : ask me not to neglect 
them through any worldly fears or considerations. Mary, I must he 
firm and true to the last, in performing the last act and fulhlling the 
last promise that is expected of me. I must go to Jerusalem. Then 
let me banish all fears of danger, and hope that all things will terminate 
well. Let us comfort ourselves with the pleasing anticipation that 
when this last duty shall be performed, we shall be enabled to become 
to each other w T hat we both have so long ardently desired." 

"Then be it so," replied Mary, with comparative composure, "since 
it is thy wish and thou sayest, thy duty, I will not tempt thee any longer 
to disregard them. But mark me, Jose, these eyes of mine w T ill know 
no sleep until I know the termination of thy day's adventure. When 
the shades of evening come . upon us I will repair to the Garden of 
Gethsemane, and in the northern bower I will pass the evening in prayer 
for thy safety. Between the hours of five and six, if all go well with 
thee, send a messenger to me at that place, and if any dangers menace 
thee, I conjure thee to flee and come thyself to that spot, there thou wilt 
rind one heart at least to shield thee. Promise me this much, and I will 
endeavour to keep from despair." 

" Mary, I promise thee," replied Jesus. Then the loving pair took a 
tender and affectionate embrace, when Jesus took himself away and re- 
turned to his company, who were anxiously awaiting him. 

He entered the house, where he took a friendly leave of his host, 
Lazarus, and his daughter Martha. He was then escorted by his fol- 
lowers to the spot where the mule was tethered, and with the assistance 
of Judas and Peter he w T as soon mounted upon the noble animal. 

As soon as he was thus elevated to the view of the people, he was 
greeted with a loud shout of joy — many exclamatory laudations and 
blessings invoked upon his future career. Jesus acknowledged the 
greetings of the multitude with a graceful inclination of his person, and 
supported with calm dignity the unusual position in which lie was 
placed. The order of procession was now formed and the word given 
to advance. Judas was on one side of him and John on the other, close 
to him ; then Peter and Andrew and two others of his followers were in 
front, and another four behind, all of whom carried in their hands 
branches of the palm tree. Several aged men, who were representatives 
and heads of various small societies of his disciples, walked two by two 
in front, and an indiscriminate crowd followed in the rear. Thus they 
left the village, taking the south-western road, which descended to the 
Kidron and thence leading on by a bridge to Jerusalem* The road was 
narrow and rugged, with a steep descent as it curved round the shoulder 
of the mountain of Olivet, withthe luxuriant forest foliage above it on 



254 THE TRUE HISTOKY OF 

one side, and beneath it on the other. Having descended this road about 
half way, and turned the shoulder of the mountain without any im- 
portant incident, they came in view of the Kidron, and then the stu- 
pendous structure of the Temple burst upon their view. 

Though Jesus had passed this spot hundreds of times before, without 
receiving any extraordinary impressions therefrom, yet at this particular 
time some unaccountable power within him caused him to halt and 
contemplate with a serious gaze, the interesting scene before him. His 
comprehensive eye seemed to measure the stupendous wall, from the 
depth of the valley to the high colonades of pure white marble ; thence 
over the tessellated pavements, ascending by flights of steps still higher 
up the mountain ; then, another range of marble porticos with their 
high, white pillars, spreading at equal distances around ; then, another 
pavement with a flight of steps, ascending higher and higher, and then, 
to crown the whole, the view takes in the magnificent Temple itself, 
with its tall pinnacles piercing the clouds and its golden roof dazzling 
in the rays of the sun. Vast ! stupendous structure! nine hundred feet 
from the valley base to the topmost pinnacle ! Almost too vast for a 
mortal eye to embrace. Yet it was the work of man. 

Then, Jesus cast his eye around the city, noting the many magnificent 
palaces of fanciful forms, with their gilded roofs and gorgeous decora- 
tions ; the numerous white marble towers of great strength and magni- 
tude, and no less great in their symmetry of structure and general beauty 
— especially those built by the Great Herod. The towers of Hippicus, 
Phasaleus and Mariamne were there, towering high towards heaven, 
mementos of the strong will and tyrannical power of that Great Bad Man. 
And then, the eye of Jesus glided rapidly around the scenery exterior 
to the walled city, taking within its scope many pretty villages em- 
bossed with gardens and deep verdure, and the graceful slopes of Mount 
Olivet with their rich verdure, its cottages and villas half exposed and 
half hid by beautiful groves. What a beautiful and magnificent scene 
was here for the contemplation of this Great Good Man. Having 
terminated the tour of his inspection, he heaved a deep sigh and ex- 
claimed — 

" O, Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! Thou art sublime even in thy madness 
and folly ! Magnificent and stupendous thou art beyond all other mortal 
achievements ! Yet, great as thou art, the day will come when all thy 
mighty structures will be toppled to the ground. Hadst thou been 
founded in wisdom and benevolence for the true benefit of man, thou 
couldst have bid defiance to the destroyer for many ages of the future. 
But, O, Jerusalem! thou wert conceived in the days of barbarous 
ignorance ; thy parents were superstition and tyranny — therefore, thy 
days of duration are drawing nigh. For, as the human mind becomes 
disenthraled from its barbarous impediments of superstition, so will thy 
gilded roofs and pinnacles topple down and mingle with the dust." 

The cortege resumed its progress down the steep uneven road, amidst 
the acclamations of the people, who had come from the various villages 
and towns to greet the friend and instructor of mankind. At length the 
base of the mountain was reached, they were then in the valley of the 
Kidron, or Jehoshaphat, as named by some, and then tbey crossed the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 255 

magnificent arched bridge which extended across the stream to the other 
side. At this spot another demonstration in honor of Jesus was given. 
A body of young men, dressed in white vestments, lined each side of the 
bridge, standing in even rows waving to and fro branches of the palm 
tree. The centre of the bridge was strewn with palm branches, and 
along the sides the young men had strewn their mantles of various 
gay colors. As the cortege passed along, the young men burst forth with 
united harmonious voices, singing a song of praise and honor to the 
Great Good Man, as the deliverer of the people from mental slavery — 
the benefactor of the poor, and the exalted of the Lord. 

This point being passed, they took their route eastward, between the 
stupendous wall and the brook of Kidron, the multitude increasing in 
number at every pace, and the acclamations of joy and praise becoming 
louder and louder. At length, they arrived at the Golden Gate, on each 
side of which was a tier of magnificent pillars of the most beautiful 
workmanship, and a colossal gate covered with plates of gold extending 
from pillar to pillar. Here they came to a halt, for their progress was 
contested by a band of Roman Guards, which was drawn up in front of 
the gate. The multitude stood aside, while Jesus and his followers stood 
in front of the guard for a few moments, awaiting the challenge of the 
sentry. An officer at length advanced to Jesus, and said in a tone 
of authority — 

" Who art thou, that comest to this city followed by a multitude. Art 
thou a friend or foe to its rulers?" 

"We come as friends, with peace and good will to all men, having 
nothing less in our intents than obedience to its rulers," replied Jesus. 

"Wilt thou be responsible for the peace and good order of this multi- 
tude?" demanded the officer. 

"I and my followers will do our best to keep the peace and promote 
good order," responded Jesu^. 

"Then thou may est pass," returned the officer, and orders were 
instantly given to throw the gate open. 

The cortege took up their march, passing through the gate, and the 
people following, while the Roman guards brought up in the rear, in 
case their power and authority should be required to quell any dis- 
turbance that might possibly arise. 

They passed through the main street leading in the direction of the 
Temple, the multitude becoming greater and greater, and the commo- 
tion among them intense. The porches, the windows, and house-tops 
were thronged with the people — a great many being dressed in white, 
with palm branches in their hands, distinguished the friends and dis- 
ciples of Jesus from the old adherents of the Priesthood. The formes 
made the city resound with the shouts of welcome and joy as the cortege 
passed by; while the latter, though looking on with intense curiosity, 
held a mysterious silence. 

Jesus deported himself with a noble, serene dignity — like a good and 
wise monarch who feels assured that his throne is in the hearts of his 
people. Sometimes he acknowledged the demonstrations of the people 
with a graceful bow, or a smile, but said nothing to augment Iheil ex- 
citement. At length, they arrived at the colonade of the eastern front 



256 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

of the Temple, when Jesus alighted at the steps and ascended to the 
upper walk, where he was received by many worthy disciples and 
friends. 

While introductions and congratulations were passing, the Roman 
guard pushed through the crowd and formed themselves into a cordon 
in shape of a half moon, keeping the multitude back from thronging 
upon Jesus. Thus, under the semblance of being of service to him, they 
were ready to check any tumult among the multitude. 

Some time had now passed between Jesus and his friends, when the 
multitude began to be restless ; a great many called aloud for an 
address ; while others, whose motives were reckless or hostile, uttered 
cries and shouts of an impudent and treasonable nature. At one part 
of the crowd a number of ill-looking men seemed to be more active and 
voiciferous than the rest, who seemed to be headed by a young man 
whose wild and reckless dark eyes denoted him to be Cosbi, of previous 
notoriety. He seemed to be urging his ruffian companions to some 
deed of tumult or insurrection ; for, after some turbulent demonstra- 
tions had been given by that party, a banner was unfurled, having upon 
it the Lion of Juda y the old national emblem of Judea. Then the voice 
of Cosbi was heard above all the rest, urging the crowd to follow him : 

"Come on, my braves," he said, in a loud animating voice, "let us 
make him King ; Jesus shall be King of the Jews." 

The attention of Jesus was now drawn to the multitude by this outcry, 
when seeing the old banner of Juda unfurled, he immediately directed 
the Captain of the Roman guard to seize it and arrest the tumult. 

The officer, perceiving that Jesus did not encourage this act of folly 
and insurrection, immediately ordered his soldiers to seize the banner 
and the man that bore it. The order was executed immediately, as re- 
gards the banner, but the bearer made his escape among the crowd. 

Jesus then stood upon the uppermost step of the colonade, when 
stretching forth his hand, he commanded silence and order, and after a 
little while, when all excitement had subsided, he thus addressed them: 

"Friends and Brethren. It pains me to think that some of you pre- 
sent have mistaken the motives with which I make this visit to the 
city. Some of you have mistaken the nature of the doctrines I teach, 
and the good cause I advocate, thinking that they bear reference to our 
political state and rulers ; and some of you have mistaken my charac- 
ter, in supposing that I would sanction the tumultuous and imprudent 
conduct which has just transpired. I feel it necessary to say a few 
words upon these points. In the first place let me state, I come not 
here, as I have been in the habit of doing, to make war upon absurd 
dogmas and priestly institutions. Nor do I come to meddle with your 
political state or rulers — to speak disparagingly of the one or the other ; 
but I come with motives of brotherly love and social good feelings, to 
make known to you that I have resolved to retire from my labors. 
This is the motive of my coming, and in doing so, I wish to explain 
the cause of my resolution to my friends — to express to them my best 
wishes — to strengthen them in the hopes of our good cause — to renew 
to them the assurances of my love, and to bid them that tender fare- 
well as becomes a brother. Such is the motive of my visit. On the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 257 

second point, I say some of you are mistaken in the nature of my doc- 
trines and the cause I advocate, if you think they sanction turbulent 
and unlawful proceedings of a political nature. Who has ever heard 
me, in any of my discourses, deliver aught in favour of discontent, 
anarchy, insurrection or revolution against our political Rulers? There 
is not one can charge it upon me. I come not among you to preach 
confusion or rebellion, but peace and good will to all men, that you 
may so moderate your conduct as to bear and forbear with one another. 
I have never spoken of your Rulers, or disputed their right to govern 
you ; but I have endeavoured to enlighten your minds, and taught you 
patience to submit to the present state of affairs, until your own intelli- 
gence would suggest and establish a better. A good government does 
not consist in being governed according to our wishes, but in its being 
according to the nature of our wants. If you are weak and cannot 
govern yourselves, quarrel not with your Rulers because they are 
stronger than you ; for a government requires strength, and any gov- 
ernment is better than anarchy and confusion. Some of you, I have 
said, are mistaken in my character, in supposing that I would interfere 
in political strife. Some pretended friends have shouted * Let us make 
him King.' O, my friends ! how great is the mistake, or wicked the 
intent of those who cry thus ! How poor and trifling is the ambition 
they wish to inspire and enthral me with ! How low is their con- 
ception of my nature, to think that I would be pleased with a golden 
sceptre, and the power to work mischief among my fellow men ! No, 
my friends ; my kingdom is not of this world. I aspire to something 
more exalted ; I wish to rule over the minds and hearts of men with 
the sceptre of reason, and the power of love. I wish to free the minds 
of men from the phantoms, the demons, and all other evil spirits which 
are engendered by ignorance and superstition; the enemies of men's 
immortal souls, through which they have so long wandered in error 
and confusion. I wish to eradicate from the hearts of my brethren all 
the tares and rank weeds of envy, hatred, malice, revenge and sordid 
interests; to cultivate the heart, and sow therein the seeds of love, 
truth and justice towards one another. These are my designs, this is 
my ambition, and the basis of the good cause I advocate. How mis- 
taken then are all those who attribute to me an hankering after political 
strifes or worldly aggrandizements. Be prudent then, my brethren ; 
let the light of the truths I teach be admitted to your understandings. 
Live a life of peace, harmony and justice, and attend to the cultivation 
of that immortal principle within you. Then you will progress in all 
that is good, from day to day and age to age, until you will arrive at 
that degree of perfection when you will know what is true government, 
and how to govern yourselves. When that day arrives, you will be 
free men; but if you neglect or despise the truths I have taught you, 
the little freedom and happiness you now enjoy will become less, and 
you will finally become extinct as a nation, to wander over all the 
corners of the earth a poor, despised, degenerate race." 

When Jesus had terminated his explanations, a man of middle ago 
approached him by way ot the colonade, who by his dross and deport- 
ment seemed to be a civil officer. As he made a very obsequious salu- 

IT 



258 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

tation, Jesus observed that the expression of his countenance was great 
worldly intelligence and shrewdness, which he endeavoured to mask 
by assuming an air of great simplicity. 

He was a native Judean and a Jew, but he was of a certain political 
party called Herodians — a set of selfish, unprincipled men, who were 
willing to advocate and serve their foreign oppressors for their own 
individual interest. They, accordingly, were employed by their Roman 
Masters as spies throughout Jerusalem and Judea, to discover and 
make report if any of the people were disaffected or plotting against 
the government. This man had been bribed with the money of Saul, 
under the management of Judas, to endeavour in the course of conversa- 
tion with Jesus, to get him to say something against the despotic sway 
of the Romans, so that he might be charged therewith and handed over 
to the mercy of the Roman tribunal. But Jesus immediately perceived of 
what class he was, therefore he was on his guard not to commit himself. 

"Master," said the Herodian, in a courteous manner and with an 
oily tongue, as soon as he had risen from his profound bow of salutation, 
"It is well known throughout Judea that thou art a man of wisdom 
and excellent deeds, whose opinions are founded on truth, virtue and 
justice. Thy independent spirit gains thee the respect of all men, at the 
same time thou fearest no man. Will it please thee to answer me a 
question?" 

"Say on," answered Jesus, curtly. 

" I wish to know," said the Herodian, " which is the best government, 
this under which we now live, or that under which our fathers lived?" 

"That government which is best administered, will prove the best," 
answered Jesus, with a triumphant smile curling his lip. 

The Herodian, not expecting so dubious an answer to his question, 
was somewhat disconcerted, and forgetting his assumed simplicity, a 
glance of malignant expression escaped from his eyes. But after a few 
moments, he rallied himself and said, with a smiling countenance— 

"Truly so, great Sir; thy answer is a wise one, but doubtful in its 
application. I wish to know, by comparison of the two, which is the 
superior. There are advantages in both, and no doubt defects in both ; 
but be it remembered, that under the Judean rule, the people paid no 
tribute. Now, speaking in candour, dost thou think it just to pay 
tribute to Csesar?" 

" Hast thou a coin in thy girdle? " asked Jesus of the Herodian ; who 
perceiving his vile intent by the nature of his question, determined to 
answer him in a manner that he could not gain his desired point. 

"I have," answered the Herodian. 

"Then show it to me," responded Jesus. 

The Herodian immediately pulled from his girdle a small leathern 
bag, from which he took a small silver coin called a denarius, which he 
presented to Jesus, who examined it for a few moments, and then said: 

" Whose effigy is this?" 

"Caesar's," answered the Herodian. 

" Then if it be Csesar's," returned Jesus, " render to Csesar that which 
is Csesar's, and to every man, that which is his." 

This answer of Jesus was an equivoque. It was not a direct answor 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 259 

to the Herodian's question. Such an answer would not be tolerated in 
this age, but at the time of Jesus, it was considered a fair mode of 
ting rid of an unfair question. The Herodian knew as much, and lie 
knew, also, that his question was not a fair one; he thought 1- 
push the matter no farther. He therefore remained silent Tor a few 
moments, then he stealthily proceeded to move away, as he found that 
Jesus was aware of all his insidious cunning and designs. 

"Stay yet awhile," said JesuB to the Herodian, "I have a question to 
ask thee, which thou art in courtesy bound to answer, as I did thine.' ' 

"Say on, master," said the Herodian, as he drew himself up with an 
assumed courage. 

"Tell me why thou art of that class called Herodians," said Jesus; 
"is it that thou art aware of the superiority of the Roman Rule, that 
our people are too weak and degenerate to rule thernselvee; or is it that 
thou art too grossly interested to be a patriot? " 

This question seemed a difficult one for the Herodian to answer. Ho 
thought to himself, ' If I tell the truth, and say I serve the Romans 
from interested motives, he will condemn me for a vile man ; and if I 
say the superiority of the Roman Rule, I must acknowledge the de- 
generacy of our people. I prefer the latter.' Then raising his e; 
Jesus, he answered : 

"I am a Herodian, because I am aware of the superiority of the Ro- 
man Rule." 

"Thou hast answered well," responded Jesus. "Xow hear me say a 
few words in confirmation of thy own statement." 

Jesus paused for a minute, and then observed : 

"The Roman Rule is the best and safest for our people, and why? 
Because it is the strongest, most permanent, adapted to coerce, and keep 
in bounds a people who are too ignorant and capricious to govern them- 
selves. The Judean people are not capable at present, and never have 
been capable of establishing a wise, orderly and powerful government 
Their minds are not constituted of the right elements, out of which to 
construct a good government. They never have had a good government, 
and as long as they are of the same nature, they never will have one of 
their own. A good government must be founded upon good and just 
principles. These principles must be established facts, derived from a 
knowledge of men's true nature and the nature of things by which lie 
is surrounded. When the mind of a people consists of princip 
this nature, then it is capable of constructing and establishing a 
government; but if the mind of a people does not consist of such prin- 
ciples, then the government it establishes will be more or Less imperfect, 
Xow if we examine the mind of the Judean people generally, we 
find that there is not an established principle that has reo 
in an established fact, which is derived from a knowledge of theme 
or of anything around them. Of what materials are the ideas, which 
constitute the mind of the Judean people? Are they phi] 
facts and conceptions founded upon truths? Not a whit: their 
consist of nothing hut erroneous conceptions, absurd fal 
grand misconceptions, wicked perversions, base prejudices, and - 
hallucinations. If this be the truth, bow |fl M possible for any just 



260 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

principle to emanate from the people, whereby to establish a govern- 
ment that shall be just, strong, benevolent and harmonious. 

"What are the leading principles upon which the government of the 
people of Israel, formerly, and the Judean people, latterly, have been 
established? Firstly, the belief of a powerful, inconsistent, vindictive, 
jealous, cruel and revengeful God ; possessing all the traitfe of human 
nature — the only exception being to a greater extent, and according to 
the history given of him, possessing the character of the barbarous 
people that worshipped him. This God of their making is an impossi- 
bility in nature, and awful in its destructive effects on the people. An- 
other principle of their belief is, that this God made the world and all 
other things in a wonderfully short time, by his bare word, for man's 
especial benefit. Man was made from the dust, — woman, from man's 
rib. He wished man to improve and be happy, so he made a tree of 
evil to tempt and ensnare him to do wrong— man and woman both do 
wrong accordingly ; then God curses them and all their posterity for 
doing what he made them do. Then this God repents having made 
man, and he concluded to drown mankind, and does so, all but one 
family; then mankind spread all over the world and become worse 
than ever. This God concludes that he will select one people from all 
the rest, make them his chosen people, and show them all kinds of fa- 
vours above all others. So this God selects a poor ignorant lot of slaves 
to be his favourites, and calls them the Children of Israel, who were 
our original ancestors. This people, with the aid of Moses, God re- 
leases from the Egyptians, and by way of showing his favours and 
protection in the commencement, he leads them through and about the 
wilderness for forty years ; slaughtering them by thousands ; famishing 
them with hunger and thirst ; afflicting them nvith diseases, until the 
whole of those that originally left Egypt are killed off. Then the rising 
posterity have to fight their way out of the desert, and steal another 
people's land to get them a home. Not one instance here stated is a 
fact, but in reality nothing more than the most absurd and ridiculous 
lies, under the pretence of giving an account of their origin and of all 
other things ; yet this forms the basis of the Judean mind. 

"It follows then, as a matter of course, that all their institutions sub- 
sequently established, should partake more or less of the same bar- 
barous, absurd and false character. If we examine all of the Judean 
institutions, we shall find them to be the same. Their rules are despotic, 
cruel and unjust; governing in the name of the imaginary Demon God 
they have instituted, instead of being wise, benevolent and responsible 
to men. The pillars of their government were made to support their 
absurd and destructive superstitious system, instead of being the sup- 
porters of the interests and wants of the state. Their laws are san- 
guinary, partial and unjust, instead of being such as are needed to 
promote the general interest and security of the people. Their customs 
are odiously absurd and vicious, capable only of engendering conceit 
and error in themselves, and making all their neighbours despise and 
hate them as a nation. In their infatuated conceit they believed them- 
selves the chosen people of God, and that all the rest of mankind are 
excluded from his favour. Thev, therefore to make themselves a 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 261 

distinct people, cut off a portion of their genitals as a mark of their 
exclusive holiness, and as a sacrifice to the honor and glory of their 
God. All others who do not the same, they consider as outcasts from 
God, whom they treat with the greatest contempt, cruelty and injustice. 
Is it surprising, then, that all other nations should mark our people as 
objects of their wrath? They set apart a portion of their people as a 
distinct class — as a Holy Order of Priesthood, to live in laziness and 
fatten upon the labors of the rest of the people. It is from this body of 
exclusives that all their absurd, cruel and despotic laws and customs 
emanate in the name of God. It is this body who continues from ago 
to age the same system of mental slavery and darkness, which consti- 
tutes the mind of the people. It is this vile body of men who have 
been the originators and supporters of all the errors and calamities of 
our people through all times to the present, and will continue to be so 
until some fortuitous circumstance shall destroy them. They are the 
makers of that imbecile state of mind of the Jewish people, which 
renders them incapable of forming a good government among them- 
selves, or of submitting to one when it is made for them. I say our 
people never had a good government of their own ; yet they pretend 
that all their institutions and laws are derived from their God, — that 
they are, in fact, the chosen people of God. How is it then, when they 
have the God of heaven and earth on their side, to guide, legislate and 
fight for them, that they have never been enabled to establish them- 
selves as a secure and happy people ? Read their history as given by 
their own Priesthood, and you will find there has always been confusion, 
anarchy and bloodshed, or external war. Every nation around the in 
has crushed or enslaved them at different times. Where, then was the 
power and majesty of their government? Where was the power and 
majesty of their God, Jehovah, who could not shield and protect his 
chosen people? — all this was wanting. Is not this a sufficient proof 
that all their pretensions were lies, and all their institutions false and 
vicious? Let us glance down the history of this chosen people of God, 
and see how their own acknowledged facts will confirm their pretensions. 
Firstly, they were found as slaves to the Egyptians. Next, they were 
slaves under the despotic rule of Moses for forty years in the wilder- 
ness. Next, they were many generations in continual war with the 
Canaanites, fighting for the possession of other people's lands and 
goods. Sometimes subdued by the Philistines, the Amalekites and 
others; then by the Assyrians, the Arabians, the Persians, the Egyp- 
tians again, the Chaldeans — who carried off ten of their tribes, which 
were lost forever ; — then by the Grecians, and lastly by the Romans, 
whose vassals we now are. Does not their whole history give the lie to 
all their pretensions, and prove the falsity of the principles of which 
the Jewish mind is constituted? Here, then, we have demonstrative 
proof that our people were never capable of forming a government tit 
to govern themselves. What, then, is the inference but this?— Any 
government that is strong enough to hold them together with boom 
degree of order, must be better than any one they may Institute ft>I 
themselves. Therefore, the Roman Rule under which we live, must 
be the best under present circumstances." 



262 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

After hearing this address, the Herodian and Judas thought it of no 
use to endeavour to make Jesus commit himself with their Roman 
Masters, by any trap they could lay for him, so they relinquished their 
attempts. 

Jesus having received information as to the hour the banquet would 
commence, dismissed his followers, and passed the remainder of the 
evening walking around the colonades, conversing with some of his 
particular friends. 



VISION TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

Again, the Spirits their mystic powers employ, rendering my mind 
passive to their wills — and then, the mental images gently glide 
before my SouVs perceptive eye— forming the scene and incidents of 
the next act in the great drama of the past. 

It was about the fourth hour of the evening, when a spacious apart- 
ment in the upper part of the house of one Simeon, who was a disciple of 
Jesus, was opened for the reception of the guests who were to be present 
at the farewell meeting of their much beloved Master. 

The scene presented was not one of a very costly nature, for there was 
nothing luxurious or ostentatious about the apartment. Plain bare 
walls, huge beams and long boards for the roof, washed all over with 
white, and an uncovered floor, formed the boundaries of the room. 
Numerous lamps attached to the walls and some suspended from tlw 
roof, gave forth a sufficient light for the large space embraced. On one 
side of the room the floor was elevated about a foot higher than the rest, 
where a long table and seats were placed for the principal personages, 
and on the other three sides were similar, but longer ; all of which 
were covered with plenty of good cheer, of a plain and substantial 
nature, consisting of roast meats, bread, fruits, vegetables, and vessels 
containing water. In the centre of the floor was another table, with- 
out seats, on which were vessels containing wine, and an extra supply 
of provisions, in case they should be required. Every table was pro- 
vided with a number of male servants, who were dressed in yellow 
vestments, with long knives stuck in their girdles and napkins in their 
hands. The meats were cut in small pieces by the servants, to be 
handed to the guests, who, if they had not knives of their own, made 
use of their fingers and teeth in all other respects as needed. 

The host, a venerable and zealous disciple of Jesus, passed to and fro, 
giving orders to the servants and inspecting all things, that nothing 
should be lacking, and when the proposed time arrived he gave the 
announcement to the guests assembled below that all was ready. 

Then Jesus, his followers and disciples entered the apartment, in 
numbers sufficient to fill all the seats, so that there were no guests ill- 
provided, or lacking of anything essential to their comfort. Jesus took 
a seat in the middle of that table, on the exterior side, which was 
elevated above the rest, and his followers were seated around him, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 263 

with John and James at ids sides and Judas and Peter opposite. The 
other tables were soon filled up by the numerous guests, when the 
servants went around distributing the various meats and giving sucli 
attendance as was required. When all were ready for the feast, Jesus 
rose from his seat, and with uplifted hands and eyes implored the 
Almighty Father of Heaven to give them his blessing on this occasion ; 
then the feast commenced— all solemnity and reserve were banished ; 
every one partook of the good things before him, for fingers, teeth and 
tongues were in rapid motion. Care, trouble and anxiety were for the 
time forgotten ; their hearts began to expand with generous feelings, 
and their minds to create noble sentiments, as their stomachs were 
filled. As each person satisfied his hunger, small parties began to 
assemble around the room in conversation, and by the time when all 
had finished it became general. 

Then the servants removed the remains of the eatables and supplied 
to each guest a goblet of wine, and general conversation was continued. 
Thus some time had elapsed, during which Jesus remained absorbed 
in thought ; John and James seemed much depressed, and made but 
few observations to any one ; Judas and Peter conversed in whispers, 
or with significant glances, and the rest of the followers seemed uneasy, 
as though they were apprehensive of some impending evil. At length, 
Jesus rose from his seat, when placing his hands upon his breast and 
his eyes upon vacancy, he remained silent for some time. The general 
din of conversation almost immediately subsided, and in the course of 
a few seconds all became still as death. 

Then, Jesus slightly bowing and glancing around the room, addressed 
the assembly in a voice of plaintive pathos: 

" My beloved friends and brethren, the hour has at length come in 
which the sorrowful task compels me to address you for the last 
time and bid you farewell, and then to tear myself from you, perhaps 
for ever. O ! my friends, let it not be considered affectation in me, when 
I say, that of all the trials and labors I have undergone — of all the in- 
sults and hardships I have endured, since the commencement of my 
public ministration, this present moment brings to my heart the 
keenest pain and the greatest sorrow. You who are parents, can judge 
of the pangs of the father when separated from his children. You, 
therefore, can judge of the agony which at present rends my breast, for 
I view you all as my children. You have been born to me from the 
depth of darkness, through the active animating influence of the light 
which I have, in a degree, shed upon the world. As the universe was 
born out of chaos, through the active powers and love of God, making 
all things his offspring, so have I called you forth from the chaos of 
human thought and made you my offspring. As a father is pleased 
when he sees the impression of things dawning upon his child's mind, 
even so have I been pleased, when I shed upon you tin 4 Light of true 
philosophy, to see it make its way to your understandings j creating a 
new life within you, by which you have been enabled to comprehend 
your true nature in part ; to catch glimpses of the True God in nature 
around you, and look back with horror to the mirky darkness from 
which you have emerged. O ! my friends ! my pleasure did not end 



264 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

here, in considering you as my children. For, as a father in the fulness 
of his love for his child, with glowing, sanguine hope, anticipates all 
that is beautiful and good with regard to its future career, so it has been 
with me, when I anticipated your futurity. In the fulness of my love 
and desire for your benefits, I have seen you so exalted in perfection, 
that when compared to your former selves, you seemed as angels of 
light compared to demons of darkness. Judge, then, of my love as a 
father towards you. O ! judge of my anguish in being separated from 
you ! In my early youth I was educated under the same institutions 
and influences that others are in our country. The same measure of 
false and vicious notions were meted out to me that others received. I 
did not cast them away from any preconceived opposing view, but 
threw them into the seive of my reason — sifted them thoroughly, and 
then I perceived that nearly all fell through, and after further casting 
out all that were imperfect and worthless, there was but little worth 
preserving. I thus became early convinced, that the constituents of the 
human mind, of the people at least, by whom I was surrounded, were 
false, vicious, absurd, indifferent or doubtful. I said nothing, but con- 
tinued my investigations. At length, the time came when I was 
enabled to travel, when I availed myself of the opportunity. Travel 
withdraws a man's mind from a great part of the vicious influences of 
an erroneous education. The mind becomes free, and gradually 
acquires strength from the acquisition of new and strange ideas. He is 
enabled to view in a cool and unbiased manner, those ideas he has 
already acquired, and consequently, is better enabled to see their truths 
or falsehood. Thus it was with me. My mind became gradually freed 
from all the erroneous notions which were given me as so many truths 
by my early instructors, and which were replaced with facts that I 
gained in the course of my travels. I was at length enabled to take a 
comprehensive view of the human mind ; comparing it as it is, in the 
unthinking mass of mankind, to the unprejudiced lover and investigator 
of truth, and then I was enabled to draw certain inferences, which are 
true as regards the mind of man generally. In the course of my travels, 
I have found men with minds similar to my own, but 1 will not in- 
clude them in the statement I make. 

" I observed that the minds of mankind did not consist of an assem- 
blage of facts, or a true knowledge of themselves and the external 
universe, but quite the reverse. Their minds consisted of false im- 
pressions, even of physical things generally, as well as everything else. 
False conceptions of their own nature ; false conceptions of external 
nature ; false impressions of the origin and power of nature ; untrue 
history of man and things ; a vast amount of wild fancies and imagina- 
tions; a vast amount of foolish and vicious prejudices, and a vast 
amount of desires, which they transformed into beliefs, and considered 
as so many facts. I perceived that mankind, generally, were not 
desirous of investigating their ideas, to discover whether they were 
true or false, but rather received them as they came, and judged of them 
only by the rule :— whether they would suit their interests and habits, 
or not. I observed that when men reasoned, it was not to discover the 
truth of the thing, but whether it would conform to their preconceived 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 265 

conceptions of that thing, or to their interests. I perceived that man 
had no general conception of what is moral good or evil, but every one 
decided it to be so, whether it suited or not his end in view; and that 
all the moral .qualities varied with men as their situations differed in 
life ; for what was good and virtuous in one man's estimation, was bad 
or vicious in that of another. I perceived that mankind in the mass 
had no worthy or true conception 01 the True God of the Universe, 
though nearly all men believed in Gods. The nature of their God was 
always according to the conception they had of themselves, with this 
♦difference: — they gave greater extension of attributes to their Gods. 

"Having arrived at these inferences of the human mind through my 
investigations and experience, I felt a deep sorrow continually oppress- 
ing me, in contemplating man's imperfect moral nature. I sometimes 
thought that man would be a more consistent and happy being, if he 
had less capacity for intelligence; then his ideas would have been 
bounded by his simple wants, and his actions would be more har- 
monious and virtuous. And sometimes I thought, if God had created 
man with an intuitive knowledge of all that is necessary for him to 
know in this life, it would have prevented all the destructive conflicts 
and aversions of which mankind have been guilty, and are prone to. 
But after further investigation and mature reflection, I per reived it to 
be man's inevitable destiny to gain perfection and intelligence through 
his worldly experience ; — not the experience of a lifetime or an age, but 
in the course of a succession of ages. I saw that the minds of all other 
animals were stationary, and the mind of man progressive. That the 
spirit and mind of man were coexistent, destined to struggle together 
through this life, until they should exalt themselves above all gross 
material influences, when they would become capable and worthy of 
entering upon another and better state in the future. Then I said to 
myself, ' Is it possible that this state of perfect intelligence may be 
brought about sooner, by individual exertion ? Is it possible for a man 
who is endowed with the light of truth, to enlighten his fellow men— to 
banish from their minds their errors and misconceptions of things, 
replacing them with a knowledge of facts?' This I concluded to be 
possible. I then determined to devote my time and exertions to ac- 
complish that desired end. Such, my friends, are the ideas which in- 
itiated me into the course I have of late pursued. How, then, have I 
filled the task I imposed upon myself? You have seen some of my 
labors, but you know not all. I have endeavoured to do much for the 
amelioration of my fellow man's condition, and though I have not 
accomplished all I designed, yet this present assemblage can testily 
that my labors are not in vain. When I entered upon my labors, I 
found two great obstacles to contend with. One was, the almost 
impenetrable darkness of the people's minds; the other was, the for- 
midable opposition of the Priesthood, whose shafts of wit, scorn and 
hatred I have defied: but at length their vindictive malice and temporal 
power have endangered and circumscribed me in my proceedings, yet 
in spite of all, I have sown so many good seeds that the harvest in time 
will be goodly and bountiful. 

" I have endeavoured to enlighten my brethren in humanity, as to 



266 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

the nature of the True God, and that the one they worshipped, under 
the name of Jehovah, was only the picture of their barbarous ancestors. 
I have endeavoured to convince them that they possess immortal souls, 
which emanate from God's own divine essence. I have taught them a 
code of morals, which, if complied with, will preserve the purity of 
their souls, and render them happy on the earth. I have shown them 
that death is but a transitory state leading to a new and better life, for 
all those that are prepared to follow it. I have endeavoured to enlighten 
them concerning their mortal nature, and I have shed some glimpses 
of that future life, which we all should endeavour to obtain. This, and 
much more that I need not state, have I done for my fellow men ; the 
great aim of which has been to make them happy while on earth, and 
to render them capable of greater happiness hereafter. 

"I need scarcely tell you that I am desirous of doing more, but, my 
friends, I am under the necessity of informing you that it can not be. 
The circumstances by which I am surrounded are such, it is not me 
alone that danger menaces, but others whom I cherish will be in danger 
also, if I persist in my course. I have aroused the great Order of the 
Priesthood ; they are up in arms against me, because they perceive 
their priestcraft is waning among the people. They give me the option 
to retire from my labors, or incur their dread vengeance. It is not with 
regard to myself that I dread their power and vengeance. No, my 
friends; it is for your safety and the cause I advocate, that I have 
reason to fear. Willingly would I sacrifice this life of mine, if it could 
assure me these dear objects of my desires and ambition would be 
saved. But, if by further opposition to their wishes I should drive 
them to hostilities against us, the sacrifice of my life would not appease 
their vindictive ire. I must, therefore, submit to the proposals they 
make me ; and though the keenest of agony rends my heart, I must 
resign myself to the sorrowful separation. 

"My friends, it is my intention, after I separate from you this night, 
to retire to domestic privacy, where I shall reflect upon my labors and 
what I would further have done, had I possessed the power and liberty 
to do so. When the shades of night shall envelope my domestic cot, 
I shall not forget to petition that God I taught you to adore, to protect 
my beloved disciples and further their cause. Before I leave you, I 
wish to make a few prudent remaks, which will be necessary, consider- 
ing our circumstances. When I retire to privacy, I would advise you 
also, to return to your homes. Some time of quiet inaction will be 
commendable in the present excited state of feelings of our enemies, 
until some more favourable opportunities shall occur to renew our 
labors. Though you may be separated by waters and land, you can be 
united as one body by the doctrines I have taught you, and the love I 
have aroused in your hearts, one for the other. Wherever you may be, 
or under whatever circumstances of life, whether happy or painful, let 
me conjure you to hold on to the principles I have taught you. They 
will be your guides under all difficulties and doubt, and as you spread 
them through the land, they will prove the salvation and glory of all 
Israel. Whatever may be your afflictions in life, never despair, but be 
hopeful, courageous and zealous in all you undertake in the good cause. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 267 

In all other respects where I have not expressed my views, follow my 
example as far as yon think I have acted prudently. Be assured, my 
friends, that though we have many obstacles to encounter in propagating 
our principles, and though the prospects at present may be somewhat 
saddening, yet they are of so true and divine a nature, they must event- 
ually triumph over all obstacles. Yes, my friends; I foresee the time, 
— though demons should howl and raise up tempests and earthquakes 
to oppose it — the seeds I have sown will spring up to be stupendous 
trees, spreading their branches all over the earth; so that all who will, 
may be nourished by their fruits and become renewed in their natures. 
The time shall come, when the earth shall be a comparative paradise of 
happiness, and man shall become so exalted in his nature, that he will 
be comparatively perfect, and deemed worthy at death to be admitted 
to the presence of his God." 

Jesus having finished his address, sat down, when glancing to the 
right, he saw that John, who sat next to him, seemed to be undergoing 
very painful emotions. Thinking that his distress was caused by the 
thought of their coming separation, he threw his arms around his neck 
endearingly and drew him close to his breast, as he whispered words of 
comfort in his ear. But John, instead of making answer, burst into 
tears, sobbing violently. Then some few minutes passed in a low con- 
versation by all present, which was terminated, when a venerable look- 
ing man, with white locks of hair flowing around his neck, and hoary 
beard, made his person distinguished above the rest by standing up at 
one of the other tables. All voices were immediately hushed and all 
eyes cast toward the old man, who it was understood was going to 
speak. 

Stretching forth his trembling arms, with a countenance expressive 
of painful emotions, he thus addressed Jesus, in a loud piercing voice 
and tone of lamentation : 

" O, my beloved Master ! hear the voice of thy loving and humble 
disciple, on the part of myself and in response of these my brethren. 
From the depths of our hearts we possess a boundless love for thee. 
From the depths of our understandings we acknowledge thy great 
wisdom, and the soul-awakening efficacy of thy divine doctrines. But 
how shall we express the depth of our sorrow, the anguish of our 
hearts, and regret of our minds, at the thought of losing thee? We 
have no words to express our affliction, but if tears can speak, then 
we will be eloquent. O, my beloved master! this is a trying moment 
for us. We, who were once grovelling in the darkness of a gross 
superstition and among the mists of man's common errors, have been 
brought forth by thee to the light of a new and happy lite. Thou has! 
impressed upon our understandings a knowledge of our true nam re. 
Thou hast revealed to us the divine principles of the True God, Thou 
hast made known to us that our spiritual selves aiv allied to God, ami 
that by livingalife of purity and righteousness, wo may return to him. 
Can we, then, ever fail to appreciate thy worth among us? Shall wo 
ever cease to regret the loss of thy presence? Gail we ever eoase to 
love thee, and feel grateful for all thou hast done for us? — O, novor! 
never! Our hearts and our minds shall be forever devoted to thee 



268 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

whether thou art living on the earth, or in the bright realms of bliss 
on the other side of death. O J my beloved master, my brethren join 
me in making a request of thee. We wish thee to suggest some simple 
mode or manner by which, at certain times we may recall to our re- 
membrance thy cherished love and services ; for we know that in the 
course of natural events, we cannot have thee always in our presence, 
but we wish to renew thy image in our hearts and minds." 

The old disciple resumed his seat with tears trickling down his 
cheeks, and in a few moments after, Jesus arose. Then, with an ex- 
pression of softened sadness on his countenance, in a calm and sweetly 
toned voice, he replied : 

" I thank our venerable friend for his feeling address, and I thank all 
the brethren, in his name, for their expressions of love and sympathy. 
Their sorrow and regret at our separation are equally felt by me ; but 
we will hope that this sad event will be productive of more brighter 
days and more important events. With regard to the request of the 
brethren, I will suggest something in compliance therewith, which will 
be equally pleasing to me. Call the servants to fill up your cups once 
more with wine, and then I will state it." 

The servants, according to orders given, immediately filled every 
man's cup with wine; when Jesus taking up his, resumed: 

"In this cup, my friends, I pledge you my sincere and undying loveV' 
He then sipped of the wine and resumed : "Now follow my example, 
and give me your pledge, as I have given you mine ; and at every an- 
nual recurrence of this night, do this in remembrance of me." 

Then the whole assembly, with one exception, raised their cups to 
their lips, and with an almost simultaneous voice cried aloud : 

"Beloved master, we pledge thee our love!" Then they drank their 
wine. 

Jesus glanced his eyes around with an expression of delight at the 
demonstrations of pure love and reverence towards him ; but when his 
regard embraced his followers who were near to him, he saw that Judas 
was not present. A sudden chill of apprehension or disappointment 
passed through him, as he observed : 

"Where is Judas? I see him not." 

"Judas requested me to state the cause of his absence," replied Peter. 
"He said that some unforeseen business compelled him to leave for a 
little while. He will soon return." 

" He should have spoken to me," returned Jesus cooly. "He is lack- 
ing at the most interesting part of our meeting." 

Then Jesus cast his eyes upon John, and noticed that he seemed stu- 
pified under some distressing emotion, and that his cup of wine re- 
mained untasted. 

" How is this, brother John ? Thou hast not pledged me in thy wino," 
remarked Jesus with surprise. 

"O ! master!" shrieked forth John in a half frantic and doleful man- 
ner, "I cannot." 

" Cannot ! What meanest thou? " returned Jesus in astonishment. 

"Master, I am not worthy," John answered hurriedly, as he aroused 
himself and looked up to his master with a countenance expressive of 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 269 

mingled shame, terror and desperation. " Let me confess before it bo 
too late. There is treachery among ns, master, — thou art betrayed! 
Judas has betrayed thee to the Sanhedrim ; he is now gone for the offi- 
cers and guards to arrest thee. Flee, master, while there is yet time ! n 

At the announcement of this intelligence, Jesus staggered for a mo- 
ment as though struck by an unseen powerful blow. All bodily and 
mental functions were paralyzed for a time ; his gaze being firmly fixed 
upon John with an expression of terror. At length he so far recovered 
his powers as to speak in a low, hoarse voice, in varied tones expressive 
of horror. 

"Judas has betrayed me, sayest thou? — and thou knewest this, and 
didst not reveal it until the remorse of thy conscience compelled thee!" 

14 Master ! dear master ! " exclaimed John, as repentant tears streamed 
down his cheeks, " I have not known it long, and then I was constrained 
to be silent." 

"O, John! John!" ejaculated Jesus in tones of agony, "this is a 
terrible blow to me — not that Judas has betrayed me, but that thou hast 
participated in his crime. Thou knewest that I loved thee as a. father 
does his child. I would rather that Judas had betrayed me a thousand 
times, than have my faith shaken in thy love. This " 

Before Jesus could finish his last sentence, Simeon, the host, rushed 
into the room with terror depicted on his countenance ; when, having 
with hurried steps approached Jesus, he said, in accents of alarm — 

"O! master Jesus, flee for thy life this instant! Thou hast been be- 
trayed. Judas comes here with officers of the Sanhedrim and a body 
of the city guards to arrest thee. A servant of mine has just brought 
the information. Flee, I beseech thee — there is not a moment to lose." 

Then, Jesus uplifting his eyes and clasping his hands, exclaimed : 

" I perceive that my last hour draws nigh ; but yet I have one duty to 
perform, which I must struggle to accomplish." Then turning his 
regard once more upon John, he observed: "TThou hast shaken my 
faith in the fidelity of man more than the treachery of a thousand such 
persons as Judas. God forgive me ! My hopes of man's perfectibility 
begin to fade before my view." Then suddenly springing from his 
place, he waved a farewell to all present and left the room, followed by 
Peter and Andrew. 

The assembly now broke up in the greatest confusion, every one de- 
parting as quickly and privately as he could, to his home or place of 
sojourn. 

A few minutes afterwards, Judas, followed by some officers of the 
Sanhedrim and a detachment of the Roman guards, entered the room, 
when he found it deserted. 



270 THE TEUE HISTOEY OF 



VISION TWENTY-NINTH. 

Gently descending, the Spirits' mystic powers permeate my being, as- 
suming their usual sway within my mental realm; controlling and 
guiding the images of thought, and thence educing a scene of night, 
with personages, incidents and dialogues pertaining to the great 
drama of the past. 

On the north-western slope and at the base of the mountain of Olivet, 
there was once a beautiful spot of ground, which was set apart as a 
place of pleasure resort by the people of that vicinity, and frequently 
visited by the inhabitants of the Holy City. It was a place where most 
of the verdant beauties of nature, peculiar to that region, were concen- 
trated ; which, with a little fanciful addition of art, made it a desirable 
retreat for any one wearied with the monotony of the city, or desirous 
of passing an hour in solitary reflection amidst sweet odours and green 
waving foliage. 

It was enclosed by a thick hedge of prickly pear, knitted together 
with creeping vines, and supported on the exterior by a low wall of 
stone, leaving an entrance on the side facing the Kidron, and one on the 
side by the road leading.to Bethany. Within this enclosure were trees 
of nearly every species that grew in the country around, of fruits and 
sweet odorous germs, — with shrubberies and flowers bordering the 
walks around the sides. There were natural arbours, shady nooks and 
cool retreats, and the ground was covered with a soft carpet of grass. 
On the elevated or northern side, there was a promenade, — a favourite 
place of resort with the young people, — where the foliage of the trees 
on each side was so dense that the branches interlaced with each other, 
forming a beautiful natural arbour, impervious to the sun's rays. At 
the interior edge of this harbour there was a mountain spring, gushing 
forth its crystal waters, which were received in a white marble basin 
below. This pleasant spot was called the Garden of Gethsemane. 

It was about midnight, for the moon rode high in the heavens, whose 
silver sheen gliding between the interstices of the foliage, gave the scene 
an air of soft melancholy, so congenial to the feelings of doubtful lovers 
and soothing to the feelings of all oppressed with sorrow. The stars 
emitted their usual twinkling light, adding their beauty; and the air 
being redolent with sweet scented flowers, affected the senses with a 
pleasing langour. Within this tranquil enchanting spot not a living 
tiling was to be seen, excepting the phosphoresent night fly that flitted 
to and fro like, as the imagination may picture, some fairy spirits at a 
revel. Not a sound was to be heard, excepting the tree insect with its 
shrill grating noise, pursuing its industrious habits; or, the night owl 
in pursuit of prey, — for the Garden of Gethsemane was reposing in her 
solemn tranquility. 

A.t length the midnight stillness was broken by the sound of footsteps, 
as three men, enveloped in their mantles, entered the Garden by the 
entrance fronting the Kidron. The foremost of the party was a tall, 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 271 

portly figure, who, as soon as he entered, betook himself to a clump of 
trees, followed by the others ; when, having gained the more retired spot, 
he tore the mantle from his head, discovering to view the person of Jesus. 

Great was the change of that handsome countenance within the last 
few minutes. The usual serenity of his dark brown eyes had vanished, 
giving place to wildness and sorrow, denoting the great anguish of his 
heart; his lips were compressed, and his cheeks haggard and pale. 
For some moments he seemed too much overpowered to speak, but at 
length, resuming a slight command over his emotions, he addressed 
the two followers : 

44 Peter and Andrew," he said, in a mild though sorrowful tone of 
voice, 44 you have given your last proof of attachment to me, as much 
as I could expect or desire under the nature of circumstances. It now 
becomes your duty to look to yourselves, and hazard not your own 
danger by mingling with mine. We must part here." 

44 Master, dear master," replied Peter in a sobbing voice, 44 it is I who 
have loved thee ever since we first knew each other? Is it I who have 
been thy faithful follower through all thy journeyings, difficulties and 
various adventures, who shall desert thee now in thy present calamity? 
No, my master, I cannot. Ask of me my life, it shall be freely given ; 
but do not bid me to depart from thee." 

44 And I, dear Master," said Andrew, imitating his brother's tone and 
manner as well as he could, 44 cannot think of leaving thee. If Judas 
has betrayed thee and all the rest have deserted thee, still thou shalt 
have Peter and Andrew as faithful followers, whithersoever thou 
goest." 

44 My friends," responded Jesus, "my labors are at an end for the 
present; I am no longer capable of continuing my efforts; I never 
shrank at toil nor danger, neither shall I do so in the future. But this 
unexpected treachery and ingratitude that I have experienced from 
those I loved and trusted, have completely unmanned me. I shrink 
from placing further confidence in man. I am now a proscribed man, 
who needs some hole or corner to hide himself from his enemies ; I 
therefore need no attendants or followers. So I advise you, my friends, 
to return to your homes and secure yourselves from the danger my pre- 
sence may bring upon you, if you should be found in my company." 

Peter and Andrew both vowed they would not leave Jesus, renewing 
their protestations of love and fidelity, when the latter being at length 
wearied with their importunities, consented that they should abide with 
him that night. He desired them to secrete themselves among the 
herbage, and watch if his enemies should approach, to give him warning 
if they did so, and in the meantime he would leave them for the solitude 
of the northern arbour, where he would commune with himself and 
pray. They promised to do as he requested them. Then Jesus lefl 
them and made his -way to the grove at the northern end of the garden. 

Jesus had no sooner disappeared among the foliage of the trees, when 
Peter, looking up to his brother Andrew, with an expression 
cunning and heartless villainy, observed : 

"Andrew, we have chased our game toacover; we must take 
that we do not let him escape. His last art is perioini far 



272 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

as the Sanhedrim shall dispose of him. We must now look to ourselves, 
seek a new master, or become masters of our own. Since he has not 
made me a Governor of a Province as I once expected, I will take up 
his profession and become a master teacher myself. Now Andrew, thou 
must hasten to the city and look out for Judas, who with the officers and 
guards, like bloodhounds are scenting around for their victim. Thou 
must put them upon the right scent, Andrew, by informing Judas that 
I have him safe at the northern grove in the garden of Gethsemane. 
Now hasten thee away, but do not return — thou wilt then escape all 
suspicion of treachery.' ' 

Andrew, having received the orders of his brother, immediately left 
the garden to execute them, and Peter seated himself at the foot of a 
tree. From the folds of his dress he drew forth a small bottle, contain- 
ing wine, of which he drank with seeming thirst and satisfaction; then 
reclining himself at his ease, he entered into a retrospective view of his 
past career, from the time he joined Jesus up to his betrayal. Among 
his train of thoughts the following were some of the most prominent: 

" Peter, thou hast become ambitious and restless. But art thou better 
placed in the world and more happy, in leaving thy simple and honest 
business of fisherman to follow a new vocation for which thou wert not 
fitting? My poor master called me a fisher-of-men, meaning that I 
should save men from their errors and wickedness, but Judas construed 
it to mean the deceiving of men, so as to profit by them, and I have 
followed the principles of the latter. What has my experience taught 
me but this? That it is more easy, profitable and joyous to follow the 
calling of fisherman, than to do what I have done ; to lie, scheme and 
deceive, seeming to be honest at the time, is more difficult than to catch 
fish. The earnings of the one is by fraud, while the gains of the other 
is by honest labor ; the latter producing the most happiness. Ah ! I 
almost wish I had never quit my business of fisherman " 

Peter's thoughts came to a pause for a few moments, when under the 
influence of regret for his past happy occupation. In the meantime he 
applied himself to his wine bottle, to receive consolation under his dis- 
tressed state of mind ; when having given it a most fervent embrace, ho 
resumed his cogitation with a more encouraging prospect. 

" Well, there is no use in repining for the past. When I look at it, 
there is nothing great in being a simple fisherman all one's days. A 
man, to be thought something of, must do as other great men do. 
Besides, the people cannot see anything great in virtuous simplicity or 
honest toil. They must be cheated, deluded and imposed on, by great 
pretensions and assumptions, and then they think one a great man. 
Ah ! ah ! I have done my part for them in that respect. The fisher-of- 
men has caught many of them in his net — and at last, I have caught, or 
helped others to catch, my kind, unsuspecting master. Ah! what 
would the world say to that, if they knew all ? He who was so kind to 
me, that I should return it with ingratitude and treachery ! He that 
loved and trusted me, that I should conspire against him and hand him 
over to his bitter enemies. Traitor that I am ! I like not that name of 
Traitor/ I must endeavour to wash it out of my memory." 

Peter then renewed his application to the skin-bottle, from which he 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 273 

took a deep draught, thinking to wash from his memory the name of 
traitor. He then resumed his reflections and continued them for some 
time after, but now and then he discovered something which he wished 
to erase from his memory, so that he resorted frequently to his bottle, 
until the wine overpowered him, when he fell asleep. 

In the meantime, Jesus had retired to the grove at the extremity of 
the garden, when he paced up and down the walk looking around him 
in the hope of seeing somebody, but finding no one, he leaned against a 
tree and gave way to his sad thoughts and painful emotions. In a short 
time, a retrospective view of his past career passed through his mind. 
His hopes, designs, labors, disappointments, and the calamitous ter- 
mination of all that was dear to him, glided like phantoms before his 
mental eye. The surprise and indignation of his youthful mind and 
feelings, when he became enlightened upon the perversity and weak- 
ness of human society. The philanthropic desires that warmed his 
breast and his bright anticipations, when he deviseji a plan, as he 
thought, would ameliorate the condition of his fellow men. Then the 
zeal and energy with which he labored to execute all he had designed. 
Thus far his reminiscences gave a momentary soothing to his wounded 
feelings. But a sudden revulsion took place, straining every nerve and , 
fibre in his being with horror and agony. His disappointment and 
crushing conviction of the vile, sordid nature of the men he had ad- 
mitted to be his followers ; his abused confidence and love ; their worth- 
less professions and their blasting treachery, were present to his mind 
in all their astounding horrors — so overwhelming and crushing he 
could scarcely believe it to be real. But when he thought of the tender 
love he bore John of Galilee, to find him as one of the traitors, this filled 
up the measure of the bitter draught of affliction he had to drink. He 
felt that all confidence in man's virtue was irretrievably gone from his 
heart. Even should he escape the vengeance of the Sanhedrim, all his 
hope, all his energies and prospects of the future were blasted. He 
writhed with the intensity of his sufferings ; he groaned aloud in his 
agony, and his forehead became covered with a clammy sweat, that 
oozed forth from the intensity of his dolour. A coldness gathered 
around his heart, when his arms fell to his sides in the prostration of all 
his manly strength. For some minutes he remained in this weak and 
almost insensible state, when at length he began to revive, then uplift- 
ing his eyes and hands, he fervently ejaculated: 

"Great God! in thee have I trusted. For thee and my fellow man 
have I labored, and now my recompense is treachery, ignominy and 
destruction ! If it be possible with thee let this persecution cease. My 
principles and love are strong in thee, but the flesh is weak." 

Having made this short but reverend address to his Father in Heaven, 
he felt himself somewhat more composed ; then leaving the tree, he 
once more paced up and down the walk, looking around him with 
restless anxiety, as he said to himself: 

"Now I am a miserable fugitive indeed! deceived, betrayed and 
pursued to the death. No one to pity me, but deserted by all who for- 
merly professed their love. Even the maiden of my heart, whose love 
I prized above all earthly blessings, seems to have deserted me, tor sho 
18 



274 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

is not here according to her word. What shall I do? Whicher shall I 
flee? I am not coward enough to flee before my pursuers like a hunted 
beast ; I would rather die a sacrifice to their ire. O, horror ! horror ! 
more blessed is the lot of the meanest thing that crawls, than mine at 
present. I am sick of this life and of my fellow man. I would rather 
be a jackall, and nightly prowl around the tombs, feasting on the dead, 
than to live on, dependent and confiding in man's professions of love, 
sincerity and gratitude ; then I should not have the agony to experience 
that all are hollow hearted, sordid minded creatures.' ' 

" There is yet one whose heart is true to thee," said a soft, sweet voice 
in a saddened tone; when Jesus turning suddenly around, beheld his 
beloved Mary. With a sudden spring he clasped her in his arms, and 
gazed upon her for a few moments with delight ; then approaching her 
pale cheeks with his lips, he imprinted upon them many tender kisses. 

"Mary! dearest Mary!" he frantically exclaimed, "thy presence 
has snatched me from the madness of misanthropy. O ! my heart has 
been sorely bruised, and my mind driven to madness! But, Mary, 
hast thou heard anything of what occurred at the banquet?" 

"Dear Jose," said Mary in a firm voice, though sad, "I passed the 
' whole evening in this garden awaiting a message from thee, until the 
midnight star shone above me ; but receiving none from thee, I left for 
home in hopes that all was well with thee. As I entered the village I 
met one of thy disciples, who had just come from the city. He gave 
me the fearful intelligence of thy betrayal, and the breaking up of the 
banquet. Then I instantly fled for this place, thinking that thou 
wouldst first come here, if thou shouldst escape thy enemies. But now, 
dear Jose, compose thyself, and we will endeavour to decide what is 
best to be done." 

"Mary," said Jesus in a tone of anguish, "all is lost to me. lam 
now a fugitive surrounded by traitors and false friends, and dare not 
show my head by day. I now repent me not heeding thy solemn 
warning and advice; but my sense of duty to my fellow men and the 
dignity of my own character, compelled me to disregard all thy just 
suspicions. In that I have erred." 

" Reproach not thyself, dear Jose*," replied Mary in a tone of great 
tenderness, "there is nothing in thy conduct to merit reproach. Thou 
hast been mistaken, deceived and unfortunate; but even thy errors, if 
any there be, only prove the superiority of thy nature over other men. 
Thou didst judge from the purity and sincerity of thine own heart, that 
all men were?, or ought to be like thyself; and when cunning and false 
hearted men made pretensions of love and loyalty to thee, thou didst 
believe them, thinking it impossible that they could be otherwise but 
true, until thy sad experience taught thee the wickedness of man. But 
come, my beloved; we must not waste time in discoursing more than 
is necessary, thy safety must be looked to. A swift horse will carry 
thee out of the reach of thy enemies before the dawn of day, and it 
shall be my care to provide thee with one ; all other considerations 
must be dispensed with for the present." 

" Dearest maiden of my heart!' exclaimed Jesus, as he fondly drew 
Mary to his breast, " since thy beauteous image again blesses my vision, 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 275 

and thy sweet voice again impresses my ears, more than half of my 
former anguish seems to have been dispelled. This scene, which just 
now seemed so gloomy, now brightens up with a pleasing aspect; and 
even life I begin to think could be endured, if 1 were placed in some 
secluded nook near the neighbourhood of thy heart. O ! sorry am I 
that I should have neglected so pure and holy a love as thine so long. 
Had I devoted more attention to thee, and less to the false hearts around 
me, the present calamity might possibly have been avoided." 

"Cease, dear Jose, to regret the past," returned Mary affectionately, 
"I know thou lovest me, that is sufficient. I have waited in patience 
many a long day to hear thee say so, and can wait as long again if it be 
necessary, for the happy day when we shall become one in spirit and 
flesh. But now, let us say no more ; let us hasten to find a place of 
concealment for thee, until I can find the means of escape." 

"Mary, there is one thing more I must say to thee," said Jesus in a 
hurried manner, as though he became sensible of the preciousness of 
time. "It may so happen that I cannot escape, but become the victim 
of my enemies ; therefore, at this present time, I wish to impart to thee 
a secret, in case I shall not have another opportunity." 

"Proceed then, dear Jos6; but be quick," responded Mary. 

" I wish to acquaint thee," resumed Jesus, "that thy former neigh- 
bours at Nazareth, known to thee as Joseph and Mary, were not my 
parents." 

"Ah ! is it possible !" exclaimed Mary. " Who then were thy parents?" 

"That is still a mystery to me," returned Jesus. "It is upon that I 
wish to speak, and ask of thee a boon. Know then that when I re- 
turned from my travels and re-visited my native village of Nazareth, 
I found my foster mother, Mary, in her last hour of life. When I en- 
tered her presence she was speechless, but sensible of her situation. 
She recognized me immediately, as I stooped to embrace her. Pointing 
to a small casket that was in the hands of a Rabbi, who stood at the 
side of the couch, she uttered a shriek of joy and fell back, when her 
spirit departed from her body. After the first outpourings of my regret 
and grief were over at the decease of my kind mother, as I thought her 
to be, the Rabbi placed the casket in my hands, telling me that he had 
promised the deceased he would take care of it till I should return to 
my native village ; he thus acquitted himself of his promise. As soon 
as convenient, I opened the casket, within which I found an article of 
jewelry and a document in writing, besides a quantity of money. The 
document I immediately read, when, to my great astonishment, I was 
informed that the worthy Mary and her husband Joseph were not my 
parents ; but it asserted they knew not who my parents were* 1 1 seems, 
according to the statement, Joseph and Mary were travelling to find a 
favourable place for a settlement; when one night, as they were resting 
after their day's journey, they were accosted by a beautiful woman, 
who appeared to be of high rank, and who presented me, then an infant 
in arms, to them, with a large bag of gold, desiring them to take and 
rear me as one of their own children. The worthy pair, who were, in 
needy circumstances, consented to do so. The unknown female then 
taking a bracelet from her arm, gave it to them, requesting that they 



276 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

should never part with it excepting to myself when I should be a man 
grown. She then departed, and nothing more was ever known or seen 
of her. This secret had always been kept from me by my foster parents. 

"I have now revealed the secret, whose son I am not; but whose son 
I am, I know no more than before. Since then, I have made search 
and inquiry to discover my true parents, but so far I have failed. I 
will now communicate to thee the boon I would ask. It is to take 
charge of this bracelet which has been transmitted to me from one of 
my mysterious parents, whoever they may be. It is the greatest prize 
I retain upon earth, and I know not any one to whom I could entrust 
it better than to thee." 

Jesus then took from under the folds of his dress a golden bracelet of 
curious workmanship set with several precious stones, which was 
attached to his person by a silken cord. Untying the latter, he gave it 
to Mary, and added : 

"Here it is, Mary; take it, wear it, and keep it as long as thou livest, 
as a memento of my undying love for thee." 

Mary took the bracelet and fastened it upon her arm, as she observed: 

"Dear Jose, thy request shall be sacredly complied with as long as I 
liye; but I can assure thee that it will not be long, if any fatal chance 
shall deprive me of thee. Now come, let us leave this spot, that we may 
carry out the measures of safety to thee." 

The loving pair then started from the spot where they held their dis- 
course, taking their course along the walk which led to the gate by the 
Bethany road, when five or six men, who were concealed behind some 
trees, suddenly burst upon them. The first who made his presence 
known was Judas. Two others were officers of the Sanhedrim, and the 
rest were Roman guards. 

"This is the man," said Judas, as he pointed at Jesus, "seize him." 

Then the officers and guards immediately surrounded Jesus and laid 
hold of him. The true nature of the case immediately flashed upon 
the mind of poor Mary, when she uttered one loud, piercing shriek and 
fell senseless into the arms of her lover. The heart of Jesus sank within 
him, as he bent over the beloved insensible form clasped in his arms, 
presenting a picture of silent grief and mourning, like the weeping 
willow on the margin of a stream. 

The scene was sad and affecting — even the officers and guards seemed 
to be moved with deep emotions, for they conversed in whispers and 
seemed loath to disturb the grief of the betrayed man. Judas was 
restless, as though smitten with compunction. At length, one of the 
officers, tapping Jesus upon the shoulder, said in an authoritative voice, 
softened with a tone of compassion : 

"Come Sir, grief is useless now. We arrest thee through the power 
of the Sanhedrim; thou must go with us." 

Jesus raised his head gently and glanced upon all around, even upon 
Judas ; yet there were no signs of irritation, vindictiveness or fear ex- 
pressed in his countenance, but there was a pensive sadness tempered 
with a serene resignation. At length, he said, in a tone of mildnsss : 

11 The first thing to consider is how to dispose of this maiden. She is 
all innocence, purity and noble Handedness. Under the impulse of her 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 277 

pure and ardent love, she sought this interview with my unfortunate 
self. She is void of all blame, whatever may be charged to me. I wish 
therefore, that she may have a trusty escort to her home, which is not 
far from hence." 

"Be not uneasy on that point, Sir," said one of the officers, "I will 
take charge of the maiden and see her safely conducted to her home." 

Jesus expressed his thanks, and then resigned his charge to the officer, 
after imprinting a last kiss upon her brow. The officer and one of the 
guards carried otf the unconscious Mary, Judas leading the way and 
giving instructions as to the best manner of conveying her home. Then 
one of the guards blew a horn, calling together some other forces that 
were in the garden. In the meantime, Jesus remained passively in the 
custody of the other officer and guards. 

A few minutes after the horn was blown, the tramp of marching men 
approaching was heard, and in a few seconds a detachment of the Ro- 
man guards made their appearance. They had in their custody a man 
enveloped in a dark mantle, who was ushered forward, when the captain 
of the guard said to the officer of the Sanhedrim : 

"We found this fellow asleep at the lower part of the garden, when 
thinking him to be one of the companions of the Agitator, Jesus, we 
have brought him before thee to dispose of as thou shalt think fitting." 

" I will examine him," said the officer. 

He then ordered the new prisoner to be brought in front of Jesus, 
and to uncover his head. This order being executed, revealed to view 
the countenance of Peter. The latter looked upon Jesus with a firm, 
unconscious gaze, as though he knew him not ; while Jesus, wishing to 
save Peter from all danger, did not manifest any recognition. 

"Knowest thou that man?" said the officer to Peter. 

"No," replied Peter in an emphatic voice, "I know him not." 

At the sound of Peter's voice, and the consciousness of being denied 
by him, Jesus felt an inward shock ; his feelings were so stung with 
the base ingratitude and selfishness of the man, he could scarcely re- 
tain the composure of his countenance; notwithstanding, he was de- 
termined to save him from all danger if possible ; he therefore exerted 
all his efforts to recover his equanimity. The officer, not believing the 
assertion of Peter, thought he would try him again. 

"Art thou sure?" he said. "Look again upon that man, and tell me 
if thou knowest him." 

"I tell thee I know not the man, and never saw him before," an- 
swered Peter with still greater vehemence. 

Then the officer turning to Jesus, inquired, as he pointed to Peter : 

"Knowest thou this man, who denies all knowledge of tine? " 

" I know something of him now, but I knew him not before," replied 
Jesus calmly and distinctly. 

In this response he spoke the truth, for he always believed Peter to 
be a sincere admirer and follower of his; but his last act had convinced 
him that he was a traitor as well as Judas. For all thai, ho was so 
tender of heart that he would do nothing to commit his false friend to 
danger. 

By this time Judas re-appeared, when perceiving under what dim- 



278 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

culties Peter was placed, he whispered in the ear of the officer that 
Peter was a friend of their party, and must be dismissed. The officer 
accordingly released him, pretending to be satisfied of his innocence. 

When the officer had discharged Peter, the glances of Jesus and Judas 
met, both regarding each other for some moments with an unquailing 
eye. The glance of Jesus was strong, from the consciousness, of inno- 
cence and goodness in the man ; while that of Judas was more from 
habit and self command. At length, Jesus observed: 

" Judas, after all thou hast done, in proving thyself my worst enemy, 
I must commend thee in one respect, if the subject will admit of com- 
mendation. I must acknowledge thee to be the most persuasive, skill- 
ful, ingenious, self-commanding villain that I have ever seen. Through- 
out the whole time thou hast followed me, thou hast been plotting my 
destruction, whilst I considered thee a true admirer of myself, and a 
trusty follower in all respects." 

"Sir, in the last part of thy observation thou art mistaken," replied 
Judas in an unassuming and candid tone of voice. "I will also com- 
mend thee, and point out one defect in thy nature. I must acknowledge 
thee to be the most learned, most virtuous and benevolent of men, with 
most amiable qualites ; but in one respect thou art lacking as a man fit 
for society. Thou hast not the power of penetrating the disguises of 
men, by which they hide the sordid sentiments of their minds, and 
cover over their hollow heartedness. Thou hast been led into dangers 
by thy credulity in believing men to be what they profess to be, instead 
of reading the true sentiments of their minds, and the desires of their 
hearts. Thou hast believed that thy followers were devotedly attached 
to thee, and that their motives were void of all sordid interests, while 
they in every respect were quite the reverse. And now, I acknowledge 
that I have proven a traitor to thee, and all the time to have been work- 
ing for thine enemies ; yet I must solemnly declare that there is not one 
man among thy late followers who admired thee for thy virtues, except 
Judas." 

Judas paused for a moment, when placing his hand to his brow, he 
added in a tremulous tone : ♦ 

"Master, if thou knewest the cruel fate which has impelled me to 
action, thou wouldst as much pity me as execrate me." 

Jesus regarded the speaker with astonishment, and at length replied : 

"Judas, thou art an enigma to me; I cannot unriddle thee." 

Then turning to the officers, he observed : 

"Officers, do your duty, I am ready." 

Jesus was led from the Garden of Gethsemane towards the city, and 
Judas followed in a disconsolate mood. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 279 



VISION THIRTIETH. 

Again, the /Spirits their mystic powers exert within my mental sphere, 
supplanting all its native powers, and with mild, though despotic 
sway, making every thought obedient to their wills; thus forming 
another scene, and enacting all incidents pertaining therein. 

In the palace of the Sanhedrim, which was situated in the Court of 
Israel of the Temple, there was a spacious and magnificent chamber 
called the Chamber of Gezith, or, the Council Chamber of the San- 
hedrim. It was lofty as well as spacious ; the roof being of curious 
grain work, was supported by two tiers of pillars, with vermicular 
flutes and capitals representing graceful foliage. Corresponding pedes- 
tals were around the four walls, with windows between them at the 
upper part. Between the pillars and in the centre of the chamber, was 
a range of seats covered with cushions, in form of a half moon, elevated 
about two feet from the floor. These seats were allotted to the seventy 
members of the Sanhedrim, when a great council was held. Opposite 
to them were two small ones for single persons, at about twenty feet 
distant, in the centre of the half circle or radiating point. In one of 
the latter the Nasi, or President of the Council was seated ; and in the 
other, the High Priest, when he attended. The first person seated on 
the left of the half moon range of seats was called the Abbithdin, or 
Vice President, who exercised some peculiar authority over the Council. 

It was about the middle of the day following the night on which 
Jesus was arrested, when a grand council of the Priesthood was held. 
Every member was present in his seat : some reclining with their legs 
down, some up, and some under them — but all with their faces towards 
the High Priest and Nasi. On the right of the two latter were certain 
officers who attended upon their orders, and on the left, at some dis- 
tance, was the accused Jesus, with officers around him and guards 
behind. There were also a great many citizens, who filled up the other 
parts of the chamber. Between the accused and the President were 
some witnesses in the prosecution against the former. Every thing 
being in formal order, the trial of Jesus commenced. 

The Nasi, or President, rose from his seat, when all present became 
immediately as silent as death ; then, with grave and solemn attention, 
all eyes were directed towards him. In a clear voice, and tone of great 
solemnity, he proceeded to depict the state of the country as regards 
religious matters. He said that " Of late, a vast amount of heresy and 
blasphemy had spread among God's chosen people, — that it had pro- 
ceeded from the labors and designs of one particular man, who ac- 
knowledged the name of Jesus of Nazareth, though by some he is 
called Jesus the Messiah — by others, Jesus the Christ, and lately, it 
could be proven he had assumed the title of King of Israel." He then 
dwelt for some time on the heinous nature of blasphemy, the wicked- 
ness of the blasphemer, and what the Mosaic law said upon that head. 
He then concluded by stating that the base agitator was at last arrested 



280 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

in his wicKed career, and was now here to answer the charges against 
him, and at liberty to defend himself if he conld. The Abbithdin was 
then called upon to read the charges. The latter then rose from his 
seat, when having unrolled a document, he proceeded to read it in a 
loud, shrill voice without intonation or pause. After getting through 
a tiresome preamble, he came to that part where Jesus was charged 
with being guilty of blasphemy. The various specifications being as 
follows : — 

Firstly. — In the course of various speeches, sermons and lectures, 
the man Jesus had been heard to deny the divine authority of Moses, 
and the special acts of the Lord in the deliverance of the people of 
Israel from the Egyptians. 

Secondly. — This man Jesus has been heard to assert that the people of 
Israel were not a chosen people of the Lord, or of any God ; but on the 
contrary, they were base, ignorant slaves and idolaters, wild, reckless, 
cruel and savage. 

Thirdly. — This Jesus has said that Moses was a cunning imposter, 
and all his pretended revelations and intercourse with a God on Mount 
Sinai, was a gross imposition upon the ignorant minds of the people. 

Fourthly. — This Jesus asserts that the God Jehovah, as revealed by 
Moses, bears not the stamp of a divine nature, but is merely a con- 
ception of Moses, bearing an analogy to his own stern, cruel, ignorant 
and fallible nature. 

Fifthly. — That all the attributes of Jehovah, as given to him in the 
Scriptures, are strictly human with a great extension, which may an- 
swer well for a tyrannical King, but not for a God. 

Sixthly. — This Jesus asserts that the accounts as given by Moses of 
the creation, are nothing more than lying fables, without a fact or re- 
semblance to truth ; and that all else as attributed to the Lord in the 
Scriptures, are nothing but absurd fictions, fables and lies. 

Seventhly. — This Jesus asserts that the most sacred Order of Priest- 
hood as established by Moses at the Lord's command, was not initiated 
by any Lord or God; that this Order of men were. not wise, just, pious, 
learned or charitable, but a gang of cunning knaves, who rob the peo- 
ple of the fruits of their labor, and keep them in mental darkness by 
their vile impositions and despotic rule. 

Eighthly. — This Jesus boldly asserts that there is no such thing as the 
God we style the God Jehovah. That the character, history and attri- 
butes of that God as spoken of in the Scriptures, are nothing but fic- 
tions, having no real existence except in the ignorant minds of men. 

Ninthly. — But this Jesus boldly asserts that there is another and True 
God, which God he calls upon the people to worship in spirit and truth. 

Tenthly. — But the greatest of all his blasphemies is, he asserts that 
he is a son of this God, and that he has a power derived from him to 
minister unto men. Under this claim he pretends to be the true Mes- 
siah, or Christ, and moreover, to be King of Israel. 

The Abbithdin having read these charges against the accused, sat 
down, when a general murmur spread among the seventy Judges, with 
many demonstrations given of indignation and disgust. After a few 
minutes, the Nasi arose, when he commanded the witnesses to stand 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 281 

forth and give their testimony of the truth of the charges preferred 
against the accused. Then several men stepped forward, among whom 
were Judas and Cosbi, who testified, one after the other, to the truth of 
the charges— some in part, some general; but Judas made a long state- 
ment of the truth of the whole. 

During all this process, Jesus did not appear to shrink or seem any- 
wise distressed. He listened and looked around him with great firm- 
ness and calmness; but when Judas gave his testimony, he manifested 
a more lively interest therein, but gave no symptoms of indignation. 
This part of the proceedings being gone through, the High Priest turn- 
ing his attention to the accused, addressed him in a stern and solemn 
voice : 

"Perverse and wickedly infatuated man ! thou hast heard these solemn 
and dreadful charges brought against thee, for blasphemy against our 
most holy institutions. Scandal against our most sacred Order of 
Priesthood, which is the same as blasphemy — and what is worse, the 
denial of our Great God Jehovah, and his providence over his chosen 
people. Thou hast heard the witnesses confirm these charges. Now 
what hast thou to say in thy defence, or in mitigation thereof? Speak, 
man, thou hast liberty to defend thj^self." 

When the High Priest had addressed Jesus, the latter erected himself 
to his full height; his eyes flashing vividly; his lips expressive of 
energy, and his whole air prevailing with the dignity of noble manhood. 
Like a noble stag at bay, he was conscious of being surrounded by 
deadly enemies, yefc he was determined that he would not succumb 
until he had made an effort in his self-defence. Extending his arm 
towards his judges, with an undaunted mien and bold voice, he thus 
addressed them : 

44 You men of Judah, who are self-styled the Sacred Order of Priest- 
hood of the Holy Temple, and thou, Caiaphas, who sittest in the highest 
seat of this despotic and remorseless tribunal, hear my words. Not in 
defence shall I speak them — for that I know will be useless, but as a 
justification of those charges on which is founded my offence. I do not 
flatter myself that anything I can say, will enable you to see things 
differently from that manner in which you are determined to see them. 
I shall not expect that my words shall so affect you as to render you 
just and honest, for that would be a greater miracle than I am capable 
of performing ; nor do I consider that I shall so move your hearts to 
sympathize with me, as to cause you to treat me with benevolence and 
leniency. No ; none of these are my motives for speaking, for I may as 
well expect to find diamonds in dunghills, as to find such philanthropy 
in your minds and hearts. No; my motives for making answer to 
these charges, will be to justify myself in the sight of my friends, that 
they may transmit the same to posterity, when I hope my motives 
and services to mankind will be better appreciated. To answer these 
charges in detail, and give full explicit explanations of the whole, 
would require more time and patience than you would wish to expend, 
and more strength than I could command; I must, therefore, resort to 
some other mode or means of treating them. If what a man states, 
can be proven the truth, then that man has not committed a crime in 



282 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

stating it— though the truth he states may be the means of crushing 
him ; for however base all other things may be, truth in itself is all 
purity. Therefore, my object will be to show that the statements I 
have made, which you bring against me as charges of a guilty nature, 
are so many truths, by which, I have not violated the laws of a True 
God or the principles of nature. The first eight charges against me, 
which you in your Mosaical wisdom and liberality exhibit as specifi- 
cations of my blasphemy, are so homogeneous in their nature — of the 
same fabulous authority from first to last, that to avoid wasting your 
precious time, I will class them together and speak of them as a whole. 
I will put the matter contained in them in the form of two single ques- 
tions, and then discuss them. First, — are the incidents alluded to in 
the charges true, as related in the Scriptures, to be of divine origin and 
authority ? Or, secondly, — are they false, as I have intimated them to 
be— the lying inventions of ambitious and cunning men, which consti- 
tute the charges against me? The author and founder of all those 
wonderful things and events as related in the Scriptures, and which I 
deny, is Moses ; who asserts that he acted as agent of a certain God 
called Jehovah. Now the subject to be considered is this : Is there 
anything in the character of this God as declared by Moses, that any 
man of common sense or reason can accept as of a divine nature? Is 
there anything in the works attributed to him, or of his actions during 
the history of our people, which a reasonable man can accept as the 
doings of a Deity? Did anything transpire in our forefather's history 
which was attributed to a providential interference of a God, that is 
not more reasonably accounted for by the limited knowledge of man, 
under the various phases of his turbulent passions? Let these things 
and events be examined by the light of philosophical reason, then we 
may discover that Moses with his limited knowledge and unlimited am- 
bition is the author of all these things, even to the existence of the God 
Jehovah himself. Yes ; Moses and his successors are the authors of all 
these absurdities, which are given as of divine authority. Let us look 
at this Jehovah as he is represented to be by Moses. It is asserted and 
acknowledged by all, that this God is all powerful, all wise arid all 
benevolent. Now let us take these acknowledged attributes of the 
Great Jehovah as criterions to our judgment, and examine his works, 
actions and sentiments as they are stated in the Mosaical books, you 
may then be enabled to understand some of my doctrines, and perceive 
that I have not blasphemed against any God — not even against your 
Jehovah. Let us look at the account of the creation. Did Jehovah, in 
the beginning, create the heavens and earth out of nothing? Philosophy 
tells us that there never was an atom of matter created or destroyed. 
Did he make day before he made the sun? Did he make the sun to 
rule the day, and the moon to rule the night? These are imposssibilities, 
for the light, day and moonlight are all of the same source, which is the 
sun. Did the Lord feel tired after working six days, so as to require 
rest on the seventh? This account of the creation could not have come 
from a wise God, or by his authority, for it shows the greatest per- 
version of facts. Whence came they then, but from the ignorant con- 
cej>tions of man— whoever was the author it matters not. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 283 

"We will pass over many of the no less wonderful parts of creation, 
and come to Adam and Eve in the garden. 'God saw everything was 
good around them,' so says the Mosaical account ; yet he had planted 
in the garden a tree of evil, to tempt them to do what he did not want 
them to do. The consequence was, they did what he tempted them to 
do, not knowing any better in their innocent and ignorant state. They 
sinned and displeased God. This is a most absurd and ridiculous state- 
ment, totally destructive of the attribute you wish to give to your God. 
Would a wise and good father put temptation in the way of his inno- 
cent children to tempt them to do wrong — to tempt them to do what he 
did not wish them to do? No good father could be found to do the like. 
Yet this stupid account of the creation makes a wise and benevolent 
God do worse than that; for he not only tempts his children to sin, but 
he curses them forever afterwards for falling into the snare he laid for 
them. Shall we doubt then for a moment that this silly, fabulous ac- 
count is the production of silly, ignorant men, and not from a wise and 
benevolent Deity? No man of sense and candour can do so. What 
authority have we that Moses acted by divine authority, when he took 
upon himself to be the Chief of his Brethren in their exodus from 
Egypt? We have none other than that given by himself, as stated in 
the book of Exodus. Well, was there anything in the acts of Moses 
that no other man could do, which would compel us to believe that he 
must have received supernal power to do these things? I think not, — 
any other cunning imposter can do as much at the present day. We 
have only Moses' bare word for his first intercourse with God, which 
any reasonable man may know is only a silly, lying fiction. Moses 
said he did not see God, but he saw something like a fire in the bush, — 
perhaps he saw the sun through the bush when it was setting; that is 
more probable than a fire that would not burn shrubs and reeds. But 
he heard a voice saying k I am that what lam? Now Moses knew no 
more than he did before, after the Lord had thus condescended to explain 
his nature and person. This cognomen of the Lord is thought to be, 
even at the present day, the most sublime conception of the Deity, when 
in fact it is nothing but nonsense, for it does not convey an idea. Can 
it be supposed that if this God Jehovah wished to reveal himself to any 
mortal, he would have given such an indefinite and mystical description 
of himself as that? This Jehovah is represented to say that 'he is iho 
God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.' We have reason to doubt the 
truth of this assertion. A wise and impartial God never could have 
said so. If he made man, he was the God of all mankind, and his 
impartiality would not allow him to favour or love one race of people 
more than another. He would not have exclusively cherished a set of 
poor ignorant slaves and idolaters, in preference to the rest of mankind 
much their superiors. Upon what authority rests the assertion that the 
Israelites were the chosen people of the Lord? Nothing else than the 
impudence of Moses, and the vanity of the people. But what sort 
being must we conceive this God to be, if we take as true the picture 
drawn of him in the Scriptures? It is asserted by all the Priesthood 
that* he is all powerful, wise and Just.' If we search the Scripts 
vvith reason lor our guide, we shall not find what is said of him to con- 



284 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

firm this assertion, but quite the reverse. He could not be very wise 
in selecting the Israelites as a chosen people — a nation so ignorant and 
stiff-necked that he could do nothing with them, according to his own 
account. Neither could he have been good and just in shewing favour 
to them, in preference to the rest of mankind. The fact is, there is not 
such a being in existence as the God Jehovah. It is a figment of the 
imagination, invented by our ancestors after their own natures — an 
image of themselves bodily and mentally, and with the same passions ; 
though by some means they have reversed the fact, and said that * God 
made man after his own image.' They represent their God with a 
person exactly like themselves ; with eyes, nose, ears, and every other 
bodily parts, even to the most private, which decency requires to be 
covered ; and if our ancestors had found themselves with tails, they 
would have given one to their imaginary God. They have given him 
all human passions, as love, hatred, revenge, vindictiveness, cruelty, 
hope, fear, hesitation, doubt, sympathy, pain, pleasure, a tyrannical 
will like their Chiefs, a love of homage, praise, flattery and adulation, 
like to any poor mortal ; a very limited knowledge of things, like them- 
selves, and a great changeableness of mind on all matters. In fact, the 
only difference between their God and themselves is, they have given 
to him greater extension of person and power. Who then is there of 
sound sense and a lover of truth, can see these things and not know 
that the existence of the God Jehovah is a fiction conceived in the mind 
of men, and therefore cannot be true. In making these statements, I 
speak not from any impulses of vindictiveness, nor do I wish to decry 
anything I know to be good, just or true in the institutions of our an- 
cestors ; but in all respects and at all times I feel myself impelled by 
the love of truth and the love of my fellow men, whom I wish to bring 
out of their mental darkness. When I disprove the God as instituted 
by our ancestors, I do not wish to assert that there is not a powerful 
Being of wisdom, love and beneficence existing in the universe. This 
brings me to the ninth and tenth charges against me, upon which I 
will make some remarks. 

" That there is a Great and Wise Power existing, by which this vast 
expanse of universe is controlled and maintained in its present state, is 
as true as the existence of the God of Moses is false, I will maintain at 
the sacrifice of my life. The existence of this Being is evident to every 
mortal of healthy, common understanding ; but as regards his nature, 
it is difficult or impossible to acquire a true knowledge thereof; yet 
there are some men more favoured than others, who possess some 
glimpses of this Universal Power or God. These evidences of Nature's 
True God were as evident to our ancestors as to men of the present day, 
but they, in their eager desire to have some comprehensive conceptions 
of him, through the means of error and imposition, supplied from their 
imaginations all they lacked in true knowledge; thus it was that Moses 
instituted their God Jehovah. Although my knowledge of this Great 
Power of the universe is limited, yet there are some of the principles 
of his nature which come to my consciousness through an intuitive 
perception. Though I know but little of what he is, yet I know suffi- 
cient to disprove and defend him from the erroneous conceptions of 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 285 

common people, in what he is not; and though the present occasion 
will not admit of my stating all that I do know, yet the tenth charge 
against me compels me to bring to your notice some principles pertain- 
ing to this Deity, which I deem necessary as an explanation and justifi- 
cation of the assertion I have made, which you deem blasphemous. 
You charge me in the tenth specification of asserting 4 that I am a Son 
of God,' and that ' I possess a power above other men, derived from 
him.' This you term impious and blasphemous, but I fearlessly re- 
assert the same to be true. Though mankind generally have not arrived 
at a state of beautitude and perfection, yet there are many who are 
worthy of, and truly to be considered the children of God. Yes, there 
are many. Who are they? They who have been born with pure in- 
stincts and refined capacities of understanding. They who have man- 
aged to live free from the trammels of vice, error and cupidity, or 
having been once thus enthralled, have been fortunate enough to re- 
nounce them. They who continue to live according to their true princi- 
ples of nature, guided by the dictates of their reason and the refined 
conceptions of a refined and exalted mind; judging and valuing all 
things of this world as naught, compared to that which their thoughts, 
desires and exertions aspire. Such as these are the true children of 
God, and as one of them, I claim to be a son of God in that sense. This 
I do not assert from the impulse of vanity or idle boasting, but from 
the consciousness of my just claims and merits. As a proof that I 
speak the truth, is it not known to you all that I possess a power above 
what is the common lot of men — a greater developement of the spiritual 
power with which I am endowed by the Great God of Nature ? This 
power I have exercised to the benefit of thousands of my fellow men, 
who can testify to the truth of what I say. This power I know is 
limited, and I have not presumed to make it appear greater than it is ; 
therefore if the people, not understanding my nature, have thought or 
represented me to be otherwise than I am, do not charge the blame 
upon me when they call me the Messiah, the Christ, or the King of 
Israel. I have given no sanction or encouragement to be thus styled, 
and I am of opinion that all these false accusations have originated 
through the workings of my enemies. 

"Now, Men of Judah, my accusers and judges, I have made an end 
of the explanations I thought necessary to justify my pretensions and 
acts in the eyes of my friends and posterity. In rendering your judg- 
ment, I ask not your pity or mercy, I know such would be useless, for 
I know that you thirst for my blood ; therefore, 1 patiently await my 
doom, and let my blood be upon your heads. " 

When Jesus had ended his defence, a solemn silence reigned through- 
out the Sanhedrim Council. The heads of the members drooped upon 
their breasts, and the countenances of many of them gave evidence of 
great grief and compunction ; they were impressed with the truth of all 
that Jesus had said, yet they viewed him as an enemy to their Order, 
whom it was necessary to destroy — thus there were contending emotions 
within the breasts of nearly all of them, between pity and vengeance. 
At length, they were all startled from their silence by a cry uttered by 
the High Priest, who having risen from his seat, threw his tire upon the 



286 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

ground and seized the hair of his head, which he pulled and tore, while 
gnashing his teeth and exhibiting several frantic gestures of rage and 
grief. 

"Members of our Sacred Order!" ejaculated Caiaphas, with great 
force, " You have heard the defence of this Arch Blasphemer. He has 
denied the existence of our God Jehovah. He has denied the Divine 
authority of Moses and villified his character. He has aspersed our 
sacred institutions and maintains the existence of another God. What 
need have we of further consideration ? Is he worthy of death or not ? ' ' 

Then Caiaphas stripped off his girdle and rent his outer garment from 
the top to the bottom. Then the Nasi uttered a loud shout of execration 
and followed the example of Caiaphas in tearing his garment. Then 
the Abbithdin sprang to his feet and followed the example of his two 
Superiors. Then, the seventy members sprang to their feet and vied 
with each other in tearing their beards, their garments, and jumping, 
shrieking, and shouting, " Death to the Blasphemer." 

These frantic demonstrations of rage lasted for some minutes, when 
they rushed toward Jesus and surrounded him. Some struck him upon 
the cheek ; some spat upon him, and others taunted him with being the 
"Messiah," the "Christ" the "King of Israel," and all heaped the 
greatest abuse and indignities that their vindictive rage could suggest 
to a fallen foe. But Jesus bore all with great fortitude and resignation. 

At length, Caiaphas ordered the guards to remove him, when once 
more the Council took their seats, to consider what was farther to be 
done. They knew that though they had pronounced death upon their 
victim, they had not power to inflict it. They, therefore, resolved to 
make out a case, that he was a disturber of the peace and an enemy to 
the Roman rule, aspiring to be king of Judea ; then, they would bring 
him before Pontus Pilate, the Governor, and if they succeeded in gaining 
the consent of the latter, they would execute him. 

Then the Council dispersed. 



VISION THIRTY-FIRST. 

Once more, I passively resigned all powers of mind to the Spirit 1 s 
mystical influence ; when, as sounds emitted from, an instrument 
combine, producing harmonious music, so the various images of 
thought unite, portraying a scene, with personages and incidents 
in conformity, 

Northeast of the Holy Temple and adjacent thereto, was a magnificent 
palace and fortress, called Antonia, said to have been built by Herod 
the Great. It was a quadrilateral structure, with a high tower in each 
angle, and a stupendous porch facing the north ; a flight of marble steps 
ascended to a terrace, which was surrounded by a ballustrade of small 
pillars in front of the entrance, and marble pillars of great girth and 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 287 

height, in form of a semicircle, supported the arching porch that gave 
entrance to the great Hall of State. Within this semicircular space of 
the porch, on one side, there was an elevated seat or throne, which was 
ascended by a flight of steps, all of which were cut out of white marble. 
This throne was called the Gabbatha, or seat of judgment, where cases 
were sometimes heard and judgments or decrees given by the Governor 
of the Province, who at the time referred to was Pontus Pilate, a severe 
and strict man, under the Roman sway, but one who was not altogether 
insensible to justice and good feelings. Like most men in high office, 
he was swayed by self-interest, which consisted in serving the power 
that placed him in his high station with great fidelity and zeal. But 
when any of these interests were not endangered in any of the cases 
brought before him, he was capable of listening to the pleadings of truth 
or injured virtue, and his clear mind and better feelings would cause 
him to render a judgment in accordance. 

It was early noon of the day following the trial of Jesus at the San- 
hedrim, when Pontus Pilate, Governor of Judea, was seated on the 
Gabbatha, which was furnished with soft cushions of silk and covered 
with cloth of purple dye. He was a portly man, about the middle age 
of life, with an air of conscious power and dignity of station ; yet, at 
times there would be a softness of expression in his glance and an easy 
unaffected smile on his lips, that indicated his general expression of 
sternness and harshness to be more assumed than natural. He wore a 
tunic reaching to his knees, of yellow woollen cloth, over which was a 
robe of scarlet silk, his legs being covered with buskins, ornamented 
with figures in gold ; around his brows was a circle of gold, from be- 
neath which his dark hair flowed in curls around his neck and 
shoulders. 

Such was Pontus Pilate, the fifth governor of Judea, appointed by 
Tiberias Caesar, Emperor of Rome. On the right side of Pontus sat a 
man of similar station, though of greater title. He was a tall, slim 
person, past the middle age of life, with a haughty and scornful ex- 
pression of countenance, who wore a purple robe worked in figures of 
gold, and a golden diadem upon his head, with numerous chains, 
bracelets and rings of gold adorning his person. This magnate was 
Herod Antipas, the youngest son of Herod the Great, who was ap- 
pointed Tetrarch, or King of Perea and Galilee, at the pleasure and 
will of the Roman Emperor. Herod Antipas had come to Jerusalem 
on the occasion of the approaching festival of the passover, where he 
was accustomed to sojourn some weeks, as he retained a palace there. 
He formerly had been at enmity with Pontus Pilate, but on the present 
occasion they had become friendly, so that Pontus •invited him to sit iu 
judgment with him, in the case of the accused Jesus. 

On the right and left of the Gabbatha were detachments of the Etonian 
guards, and in front were a great number of the members of the San- 
hedrim; among whom were Caiaphas, the Nasi and Abbithdin, with 
several officers, having in custody their victim Jesus. The eyes of the 
Holy Priesthood seemed at times to glisten with a demoniac pleasure 
as they regarded the victim in their power; but as Pontus glanced at 
Jesus with an expression of compassionate interest, the pleasure of 



288 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

their looks changed to one of uneasiness, from fear that the Governor 
could not be prevailed upon to comply with their murderous wishes. 
At length, all the parties being ready for the examination of the accused, 
Pontus addressed the members of the Sanhedrim in a tone of authority, 
though respectfully : 

"Say, you Reverend Sires and Ministers of Jehovah's Holy Temple, 
why bring you this man before me as a culprit? What charges of evil 
doings have you against him?" 

"Most gracious Sir and mighty Governor," answered the Nasi, as he 
advanced a few steps towards the Gabbatha, holding in his hand a 
small scroll of writing, "this man has been guilty of grossly insulting 
and blaspheming against our most holy institutions and the God we 
worship under the name of Jehovah ; for which, he has been arraigned 
before our sacred tribunal, tried and condemned ; but as we have not 
the power to inflict the penalty which is assigned to his guilt, according 
to our sacred laws, as we are restricted therein by our present Rulers, 
we bring him before thee " 

"To do what you dare not do, but wish to have done," interrupted 
Pontus Pilate, "which means no less than this: you wish me to take 
.this man's life. I feel myself highly flattered in the preference you 
show me in this pleasant business, and my august master, the Roman 
Prestige, must be highly honored thereby. But let me inform you, 
Reverend Sires, that between the compact of the Judean people and 
their rulers, the latter do not meddle or judge of any matters assigned 
to the tribunal of the Priesthood. You may accuse a man for trans- 
gressing your sacred laws, try him, condemn him, and punish him to 
a certain extent, but not touch his life, for • that is the property of the 
State. Nor are we authorized to do so in matters pertaining to your 
religion." 

"We wish not, your Highness," replied the Nasi, "for you to judge 
this man or condemn him according to our sacred laws, but we bring 
him before you to judge and condemn him on certain offences com- 
mitted against the State, which in course of our investigations have 
come to light, wherein he has been guilty of treason against the State, 
and contempt of our gracious and august master, the Emperor." 

"Ah ! " exclaimed the Governor with a sudden change of countenance, 
from one of indifference to one of sternness, "that is a matter that must 
be looked into. What, are the charges against this man of a treasonable 
nature?" 

"Your Highness will please to hear read the charges specified in this 
document," replied the Nasi, as he unfolded the scroll and proceeded 
to read as follows :— - 

1st. "This man has been heard to speak disrespectfully and con- 
temptuously of our most illustrious and gracious Emperor, Tiberias 
Cassar, many times in several places. 

2d. He has denied the justice and lawfulness of paying tribute to 
Caesar. 

3d. He has denounced the Emperor as a tyrant and usurper of the 
rights and power of the Judean people. 

4th. He has endeavoured to incite the people to rebellion against their 
rulers. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 289 

5th. He has caused the standard of Juda to be raised, and the Eagle 
of the Romans to be treated with indignity. 

6th. He has proclaimed himself to be the rightful King of the Judean 
people, and by many ways he has endeavoured to withdraw the people 
from their allegiance to their rulers. All these charges we have wit- 
nesses to verify. " 

"Who are the witnesses to confirm these charges?" inquired the 
Governor, as he cast a suspicious glance over the members of the 
Priesthood; for he was well aware that they were moved by hatred 
and interest to the prosecution of the accused Jesus. He was doubtful 
of their veracity, and afraid that their malignity would push them so 
far as to swear falsely to the charges they had brought against the ac- 
cused. He felt an interest in their victim, and was in hopes that he 
should be enabled to free him ; but if anything of a treasonable nature 
was proven against him, he was bound to see all such offenders strictly 
punished. Accordingly, with much regret, he ordered the witnesses to 
be produced. 

"We have several witnesses among our own body, who can testify 
to the truth of our charges," returned the Nasi. 

"Then let them proceed," said the Governor. 

Then various members of the Sanhedrim stood forth, one after the 
other, and made several statements in seeming confirmation of the 
charges against Jesus. Having given their testimony, they cast glances 
of triumph upon their victim, as though to assure him his doom was 
sure. Jesus still retained his cool state of indifference and serene 
resignation, as though nothing unusual had happened to molest him. 
But the Governor felt distressed and embarrassed, and with much 
reluctance proceeded in the case. After a few minutes of reflection, he 
cast his regard upon Jesus, and said: 

"Unfortunate man! what hast thou to say in thy defence to the 
charges these men bring against thee?" 

Jesus raised his eyes to the Governor with an expression of awakened 
interest to the serious crisis, and a slight flush of indignation suffused 
his cheeks, as he made answer : 

"Your Highness may observe that my enemies have taken advantage 
of me. They knew I should not be prepared to answer certain charges, 
of which I was ignorant to the present time. All I can do in the present 
case, is to declare my entire innocence of all that my enemies have im- 
puted to me. I solemnly declare the charges against me are false, vin- 
dictive and wicked inventions, designed to work my destruction." 

" Hast thou no friends who can bear testimony to the truth of that 
which thou hast aflirmed?" inquired the Governor. " Look around thee 
— for if there be any one who can speak in thy favour, he shall have a 
just hearing." 

" There are thousands in the city who can bear testimony to the falsity 
of the accusations brought against me," replied Jesus, "for everybody 
that knows me and my principles can prove that my doctrines, my 
examples and actions are the very reverse. But my friends have all 
deserted me, as they are afraid of persecution from the same men who 
persecute me." 
19 



290 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 

The Captain of the Roman guards now left his position at the head of 
his men, and advanced in front of the Governor, when, having made 
his obeisance, he remarked : 

" If your Highness please, I wish to state that there is one present 
who can testify in favour of the accused.' ' 

The priests shrank back in dismay when this announcement was 
made, and the eyes of Pontus Pilate sparkled with delight, as he hur- 
riedly said . 

" Say est thou so? Then let that witness stand forth and speak, who- 
ever he may be." 

"It is I who wish to testify," replied the Captain. 

"Speak on, man," said the Governor, "and be not afraid to tell all 
thou knowest, that will bear in favour of the accused." 

"I wish simply to state the occurrences that took place on the evening 
previous to the arrest of the accused," answered the Captain in a fear- 
less and candid manner, "which I think will go far to disprove, or 
altogether to confute the charges brought against him." 

The Captain then stated that on the day Jesus made his entry into 
Jerusalem, he, with a company of soldiers, was appointed to preserve 
the peace, and watch the actions and manifestations of Jesus. He de- 
scribed the entrance into the city, and the passing through it to the 
front colonade of the Temple as very orderly, and void of all insur- 
rectionary and treasonable designs on his part. He described how the 
friends of Jesus received him, and how all was peace and harmony 
until a crowd of ruffians, under the pretence of being his friends, en- 
deavoured to raise a tumult; how they uttered various treasonable 
cries, and how, at length, they raised the standard of Juda. Then he 
stated how Jesus requested him to arrest the disturbers, pointing out 
especially the man with the standard. Then he stated how Jesus ad- 
dressed the people, exorting them to be peaceful — to avoid all seditious 
actions and expressions ; how some of them had mistaken his character 
and designs; that he had no ambition for worldly aggrandizement; 
that he wished only to reign over their hearts and minds. Then he 
stated how certain men put questions to him, endeavouring to make 
him say something offensive of Csesar or the Roman Rule. How Jesus 
answered him, without committing himself; how one of them put the 
question — "whether the Roman Rule was the best government for the 
people? " And how Jesus spoke at great length, explaining the history 
of the people, proving that they were not capable of governing them- 
selves, and that the Roman government was the strongest and best for 
them. The Captain then concluded his testimony by saying: "All that 
I have said, I swear is true by the Roman Standard." 

"Then by the Gods! this man is innocent of the charges!" cried 
Pontus Pilate with great energy, as he sprang from his seat in the ex- " 
citement of the moment. "It is not necessary to continue this investi- 
gation. The man has done nothing to merit death, and unless some 
stronger proofs shall be given of his guilt, I shall free him." 

Then Caiaphas advanced a step in front of the Governor, when erect- 
ing his person with a haughty and imperious air, he remarked: 

"I beg your Highness to consider that this man has been charged 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 291 

with treasonable designs and actions against our Imperial Master, 
Caesar, on the testimony of many reverend personages ; yet their testi- 
mony you consider invalidated by the counter-testimony of one other 
man. Is this the usual course of Roman jurisprudence? I doubt it 
much; I therefore shall object to this decision." 

The Governor, who had never been friendly with the High Priest, 
Caiaphas, was aroused to great indignation when he found his authority 
and judgment was disputed by him. But knowing that Caiaphas 
had some favour and influence at Rome, he thought it would not be 
prudent to show any hostile feelings towards him; he therefore en- 
deavoured to curb his anger as much as possible in making a reply. 

"Most Reverend Minister of Jehovah's Temple," he said, in a slight 
ironica^ tone of voice, "what you say touching your Reverend Wit- 
nesses may be true in ordinary cases. I must acknowledge that the 
evidence of one counteracting the evidence of many is not in strict 
conformity with the Roman jurisprudence. But, most exalted Sir, I 
wish you to understand that in me is the power to accept or reject such 
testimony as in my judgment seems fitting. Now according to my 
experience, I find it possible for twenty Reverends to testify to a lie, 
and that one honest and simple man may speak the truth, though not 
a Reverend." 

"Sir!" exclaimed Caiaphas in a tone and manner greatly excited 
with furious indignation, "this language is insulting to the dignity of 
my office and standing. I shall protest against your decision as unjust, 
and-I will bring the case before our Imperial Master, Caesar. I doubt 
not he will decide otherwise." 

"Proud and haughty priest," returned the Governor with equal 
haughteur, " follow the bent of your will, and if Caesar shall disapprove 
or counteract my decision, I shall consider that he disapproves of me. 
I shall now dissolve this tribunal for the present, and in the evening 
you shall have my final decision." 

The tribunal was then dissolved for the time. Pontus, accompanied 
by Herod Antipas, entered the place under the excited feelings of sup- 
pressed anger and hatred. Jesus was re-conducted to his prison, and 
the Holy Priesthood left the place for a time. 

About two hours afterwards, the persecutors of Jesus began to re- 
assemble in the porch of the palace and in front of the Gabbatha to 
await* the decision of the Governor and the fate of their victim. Like a 
pack of bloodhounds with anxious and restless eye and keen appetite, 
they anticipated the delight of feasting on his blood. 

In the meantime, the Governor and Herod Antipas had taken a re- 
past, when they discussed the subject in private, whether Jesus should 
be made a sacrifice to appease the vindictive demands of the Priest- 
hood, or whether he should be freed. Pontus Pilate was conscious that 
Jesus had done nothing to merit so great a punishment. He viewed 
the latter as an enthusiast in the cause of religion and morals, who had 
given offence to the priests by his doctrines, but was quite innocent of 
any evil intentions to the State or its rulers; he therefore would save 
him if possible from the [malignity of his enemies. Herod was also 
conscious that Jesus had done no evil to the Stale, and that the char. 



292 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

against him were lying inventions of his enemies ; but he was a man 
so void of sympathy with injured innocence, and had so little regard 
for justice and truth, that he would not hesitate a moment to commit 
acts of the greatest turpitude, when he thought it would suit himself or 
any party to which he was joined. He was a professed worshipper in 
the temple of Jehovah, and supporter of the Priesthood ; whether from 
motives of conscience or self-interest, were best known to himself. He 
therefore advised Pilate to decide in favour of the latter. It was then 
determined between them to give Jesus a private examination, before 
the Governor should give his final decision. Accordingly the guards 
were summoned to take Jesus to the Hall of Judgment, and to exclude 
all others excepting the guards. 

The Judgment Hall was a chamber of great architectural toeauty, 
consisting of twelve sides, with as many massive pillars supporting a 
concave dome, through which the light was admitted. On one of the 
sides the judgment seat was elevated some feet above the floor — the 
latter being of tessellated marble, which was divided into various com- 
partments by small balustrades: in one of which, near the judgment 
seat, Jesus was standing, surrounded by the guards. The countenance 
of the prisoner bore the expression of passive resignation, as though 
all hopes and desires of earth had left him, and sweet serenity had 
filled their place. 

At length, the solemn stillness of the Hall was disturbed from its 
repose by the echoing footsteps of the Governor and Herod, as they 
entered and advanced to the elevated seat. 

" I think your Highness had better take my advice," said Herod to 
Pontus Pilate, when he had seated himself by the side of the latter. 
" This Caiaphas is an astute and resolute man, quite capable of working 
his ends ; whose political enemies he generally finds means to clear 
from his path. Should you offend him, by refusing to condemn this 
Jesus to the doom he and his Order wish, he will seek an opportunity 
to revenge himself on you. He has great influence with the Emperor 
at Rome, which enabled him to be appointed to the High Priesthood. 
I therefore advise you to keep friends with him, by giving this man 
into his power." 

"I am not a man over fastidious in what I do, where prudence sug- 
gests," answered Pontus; "but here is a case in which, if I comply 
with the desires of these priests, I shall not only sacrifice an innocent 
man, but I shall humiliate myself. But let us question this man; per- 
haps we may discover something to justify me in deciding against him." 

Pilate then ordered Jesus to be brought nearer to him, which being 
done, he spoke to the latter as follows : 

"Unfortunate man, what hast thou done to these thy accusers, who 
seek with hatred to undo thee?" 

"I know that I have greatly offended them," answered Jesus mildly, 
"but that has been in fulfilment of my office, which is the duty I owe 
to God and my fellow man. In performing this duty, I have said and 
done nothing that is not in conformity with the eternal truth." 

"Truth!" exclaimed Pontus in doubt and surprise, "what meanest 
tfiou by truth?" 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 293 

"Truth, as regards these my accusers!" responded Jesus, with a 
degree of animation lighting up his countenance. "My accusers, who 
style themselves the Most Sacred Order of Priesthood, Ministers of the 
Holy Temple of the Great Jehovah. To speak the truth concerning 
them, is to strip them of their lofty and imposing titles — to expose 
the falsity and base impositions of their pretensions — to lay open the 
wickedness of their hearts — to display the meanness and ignorance, the 
cunning and sophistry of their minds; the absurdities of their dogmas; 
the lying assumptions of their history, and the multifarious evils at- 
tendant upon their very existence, as blind guides and evil teachers of 
the people. This is the truth which has offended them, and for which 
they seek to destroy me." 

" By the Gods ! " exclaimed Pilate in astonishment, as he lifted up his 
hands, " if that be the truth, it is no wonder those priests should en- 
deavour to destroy thee. Truth indeed ! Why man, that is the most 
dangerous thing a man can meddle with; it generally destroys him 
who uses it. My experience in life tells me that a man cannot prosper 
in society by speaking the truth. It is a complete bar to the favour of 
all the magnates on the earth. A man may be forgiven for murder or 
for treason, but if he utters the truth of all he knows concerning men, 
he will not be forgiven, and will draw down upon himself the hatred 
and hostility of those he has offended. Unfortunate man ! thou hast 
greatly offended thy adversaries, and produced thy own destruction." 
Then Pilate turning to Herod, remarked : " What should we think and 
feel, my Lord, if all the truth were spoken concerning you and me ? " 

"It is horrible to contemplate," answered Herod, as he gave his 
shoulders a shrug. " This fellow must be a great disturber of society, 
and a great worker of vexation among his superiors. There is no doubt 
in my mind that he is guilty of all that is charged to him. I suspect if 
he were to tell the truth concerning himself, we should find that he is 
ambitious to become a King, and has been endeavouring to arrive at 
that exalted station by raising the people to insurrection." 

"I have before stated," replied Jesus with energy, "that I have no 
desires, hopes or ambition for worldly aggrandizement. My ambition 
is not founded on the things of this world, but it points to others of a 
superior nature, in a more exalted state ; and as far as my influence 
over my fellow man extends, I wish to guide his mind and heart in 
that direction." 

"Your Highness may do as you please in believing this man's tale," 
observed Herod to Pilate, as he screwed up his features expressive of 
contempt. "But the way in which I view the case is this: That this 
man is a low born fellow, with a little learning and great ambition, 
who is desirous of raising himself from his low degree to some point of 
elevation ; he is therefore a dangerous character, and no doubt is guilty 
of all that is charged to him. I am told that he is the son of a poor 
mechanic, called Joseph the Carpenter. Ah! ah! such presumption in 
a low born thing like him, aspiring to be a King ! He ought to be made 
an example of, and warning to all others of his low station." 

"Herod Antipas!" cried Jesus, with a degree of indignation in his 
tone of voice and expression of countenance, "thou doest me wrong. 



294 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

I am not worldly ambitious, neither am I of lowly birth. Thou art 
mistaken in considering me the son of a mechanic ; I have proofs to 
show that I am not of low degree, but the offspring of some great per- 
sonages, though I know not who my parents are. It is possible, if the 
truth could be known, that the blood which courses through my heart 
comes from as proud and kingly a Sire as thou art." 

At the conclusion of Jesus' reply, Herod gave a sudden start of hor- 
ror, and gazed for some moments upon the countenance of Jesus ex- 
pressive of alarm. But at length, having recovered from his emotion 
in a degree, he turned to Pilate and said in a low, husky voice : 

"By the Eternal God Jehovah! this man must die a felon's death. 
He has insulted my dignity, and like a serpent suddenly springing up 
in my path, by some unaccountable means he has caused my blood to 
chill with horror. Your Highness must consent to his death, for I will 
join my influence with his adversaries to compass it, and woe be to 
those who thwart it." 

Pilate sprang from his seat to the floor, and with a wild and hurried 
step walked to the extremity of the Hall, where he paced to and fro 
for some minutes, wringing his hands and beating his breast in the 
greatest agony of mind and feelings. At length, having overcome the 
ebulition of his emotions, he seemed to subside to some point of de- 
termination. Then turning to the Captain of the guards, his pallid 
countenance expressive of great inward strife, he said : 

"Bring the prisoner to the porch." 

Then Pilate rushed from the Hall to the porch, and hastily mounted 
the Gabbatha, around which the Sacred Priesthood were assembled, 
awaiting with intense suspense the decision of the Governor. As soon 
as the guard appeared with Jesus in their midst, Pilate arose, and the 
eyes of the Priesthood were immediately fixed upon him, glittering 
like those of serpents when they are about to spring upon their prey. 

"Most holy and merciful Priesthood of the Great Jehovah," said 
Pilate in a bitter sarcastical tone of voice, "behold the man for whose 
blood you thirst, I give him into your hands. Let his doom be as you 
will ; but I declare before the Gods, that I give my consent to his death 
as a sacrifice to the peace of the State rather than to justice. Take him 
into your power." 

A loud shout of joy burst from the throats of the Holy Priests -, 
when they discovered that their desired end was obtained. Their 
gestures exhibited the wildest demonstrations of their heart's con- 
tent, and loud acclamations of thanks, praises and eulogies were 
given to Pilate as the wisest and best of Governors. Some time was 
passed in confusion, in discussing the mode, time and manner of 
executing their vengeance upon their victim, which was at length set- 
tled by the High Priest, who decided that Jesus should meet his death 
on the morrow in a formal manner. 

The victim, still retaining the serenity of his nature, and mild, sweet 
expression of countenance, was conducted by the guards back to his 
prison, to await the consummation of an ignominious death as the 
reward for his virtuous and noble aspirations. Pilate retired to bis pri- 
vate chamber to brood over the event with feelings of remorse. Herod 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 295 

returned to his own palace in a state of gloomy and unquiet appre- 
hensions, and the Priesthood returned to their quarters elated with 
their triumph. 



VISION THIRTY-SECOND. 

Once more, the Medium passively submits his mind to the Spirits 9 mys- 
terious powers ; when, with their accustomed sway over the images 
of thought, they picture forth a scene of sadness, and the inward 
perception of sounds is resonant with sighs, waitings and plaintive 
tones. 

The following night and morning after the condemnation of Jesus to ■ 
death with the consent of Pilate, great preparations were made for the 
execution. As to the mode or manner of executing a criminal, there 
was none established by law; it being done in various ways, according 
to the will and pleasure of the authorities. But when great vengeance 
was sought to be wreaked upon the unfortunate victims, the crucifix 
was generally resorted to, as the most cruel and ignominious of deaths. 
This mode was selected by the priests for the unfortunate Jesus. If 
there had been a more cruel and debasing mode known at the time, 
they would have chosen it ; for their hatred, rancour, scorn and desire 
of vengeance knew no limits. They not only wished to glut their 
vengeance in inflicting agonies upon their victim, but they wished to 
set before the eyes of the people an example of their power, which was 
to impress them with horror, fear and submission to their wills; ac- 
cordingly, they strove to make this execution as terribly impressive as 
possible. 

The usual place of execution that was selected was an elevated piece 
of ground without the city, called Golgotha, or Place of Sculls, from 
the quantity of such relics generally found there of criminals who had 
been previously executed. On the summit of this hilly spot a high and 
massive beam was erected, with a transverse piece fastened near to the 
top, upon which the hands of the criminal were to be nailed with the 
arms extended; and on a small ledge below, on the main beam, his 
feet were to be fastened in like manner. Thus fastened, the criminal 
was allowed to linger in agonies until death put a period to his sufferings. 

It was about noon on the following day, when the procession to the 
place of execution began to form in front of the palace and fortress of 
Antonio. Thousands of people were collected to see the tragic Bight: 
some being moved from hatred to the condemned man; some from 
sympathy and admiration of the man they considered to be a model of 
human perfection, wishing to see how he, they considered blameless in 
life, would deport himself in confronting death; and some were moved 
from an idle curiosity and a love of general excitement, without any 
great love or hatred for the condemned. Besides, thousands of his 
disciples were present, who mourned in silence the sad late of him they 
loved, yet whose cause they dare not openly espouse. 



296 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

The Roman guards were numerous, enclosing a space where the 
procession was forming, and keeping the strictest discipline to main- 
tain order and prevent a rescue or rising of the people. At length, 
everything being ready, the procession began to move along the main 
thoroughfare, or street, to the north-eastern gate of the city to the place 
of Golgotha. 

A small body of the Roman guards were in advance, clearing the 
route Of people and all obstructions. A few paces behind came Pontus 
Pilate and the High Priest on horseback : the former dressed in his 
robe of State, and the latter in his sacerdotals, as though going to a 
high festival of the temple. As these representations of the two great 
powers of the State passed by— one being the strong arm of political 
power, and the other the strong power of superstition, which kept the 
minds of the people enchained— the multitude became impressed with 
• a fearful and solemn awe. All noises and clamours were suppressed 
for the time, but they gazed on intently with countenances expressive 
of great terror. Then came a body of the Priesthood, headed by the 
Nasi, who, from their deportment, wished to make their appearance 
one of a solemn nature ; yet from the sparkling of their eyes and curl- 
ing of their lips, it seemed a joyous ovation to them. Then came an- 
other body of Roman troops, in the midst of whom was the much 
persecuted Jesus, the man of virtue, intelligence and truth, who had 
labored for the enlightenment and amelioration of his fellow men ; the 
man who had sacrificed all his worldly interests of time, wealth, con- 
sideration and ease to enable mankind to arrive at superior conditions. 
The last of his sacrifices was now about to be made — his life was about 
to be given up to appease his enemies, glut the vengeance of despots, 
tyrants, superstitious bigots, cold hearted knaves, and all wicked men 
of sordid interests, who constitute the class opposed to the advancement 
of mankind from the errors and vices of old established notions. The 
virtuous victim was not cast down ; he bore himself up with conscious 
dignity as the lover and dispenser of truth, virtue and justice, indicating 
thai all was peace within. Sometimes a sweet smile would play upon 
his lips of gratefulness and brotherly love, as he noticed the tearful 
demonstrations of sympathy given by some of the spectators. Slightly 
bowing his head, he acknowledged the signs of their heartfelt love, and 
nassed on. Then followed another body of the Priesthood, headed by 
the Abbithdin, of a similar appearance to the former, and the rear was 
brought up by another division of troops. The multitude then followed 
indiscriminately. Both sides of the main street were densely thronged 
with the people. All the porches, windows, avenues and house-tops 
were filled with spectators. Some uttered exclamations of hatred and 
disapprobation as the Priesthood passed, but no one thus saluted the 
victim — not even those who were not his admirers. On the contrary, 
tears noured fast and copious from the majority of the people; deep 
sighs were heard, and distressing wailings as well as lamentable ex- 
pressions were uttered. There were scarcely any, excepting the priests, 
who did not lament the fate of so excellent a man. 

Thus the tragical procession moved on to the fatal spot, where he was 
to make the last effort of his pledges to the people. At length they 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 297 

arrived at the gate at the boundaries of the city, through which they 
passed, and thence along the country road by several suburban villas 
and fields of culture, until they came to a gently rising hill, upon the 
top of which they saw the fatal cross where he was destined to pay the 
forfeit of his life. At the foot of this hill were assembled a multitude 
of females- the fair maiden and the sober matron ; all of whom seemed 
to be bowed down with grief. The two daughters of Lazarus were 
there, having come to take the last sight and wave the last adieu of the 
only man of the world for whom they cherished a love greater than that 
of a sister's. Mary was pale, though she seemed composed ; some fixed 
idea or resolution seemed to support her on this trying occasion ; but 
Martha gave vent to tears and great wailings. When the procession 
arrived at this spot, there was a halt made to make some further ar- 
rangements; when Jesus perceiving the women on either side of him, 
and recognizing the daughters of Lazarus, he desired one of the guards 
to go to Pilate, requesting the indulgence of a few minutes stay, and 
permission to bid adieu to the females. The guard did as he was re- 
quested, when Pilate consented, though Caiaphas wished to oppose it. 
However, the Governor would not be overruled in this respect, so that 
permission was given ; when Jesus, taking a prominent position among 
them, thus addressed them: 

"Weep not, Mothers and Daughters of Jerusalem; weep not for me! 
rather weep for yourselves, your sons, your husbands, brothers and 
fathers. For me there is no occasion to weep — all is peace and tran- 
quility within me, and a serene pleasure pervades me from a conscious- 
ness that I have done my duty to you all, to my country at large, and 
set an example to be followed by other men for the love and benefit of 
all mankind. No one knows as well as myself how well I have lovpd 
you, and no one knows, excepting me, how I have labored, studied, 
hoped and aspired to do great things to your benefit and make you all 
happy. It behooves me then to speak in these last moments, and I 
doubt not you will accept my words as the truth. I have long seen 
the errors, the vices and unhappiness of our people as a nation, and I 
have been enabled to see the causes thereof. My love for my country 
as a whole — for your fathers, husbands and brothers in particular, and 
you as my sisters — have stimulated me to do what I have done. I 
knew the evils I should have to encounter, the risk I should run, and 
the probable forfeit I should have to pay of my life in the end ; but this 
did not deter me from the undertaking, — no personal sacrifice could 
deter me from doing what I conceived to be my duty. I ventured upon 
the task, and I have been prosperous in sowing the seeds of re for in. 
At length, the strong arm of political power and superstitious hatred 
have put a stop to my endeavours to do more. I am doomed to a mor- 
tal death, by which my enemies think to put a stop to the objeet of my 
labors, and then they think to triumph over me. But how foolish and 
narrow are their conceptions! They know not the events of the future, 
which will result from their actions as well as mine. Women of Je- 
rusalem! I have not labored in vain. I have done much good to thou- 
sands of my fellow countrymen, as they can testify. 1 have led them 
out of the darkness of a vile superstition, corrected their errors and 



298 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

vices, and gave them an idea of what is true life ; and the seeds of reform 
that I have sown shall rise up into a bountiful harvest among the 
seekers of truth. My words and my loVe to you all shall not die; 
though I as a mortal man shall be no more, yet the babes that now 
suckle at your bosoms shall receive the benefit of my labors, my love, 
and the sacrifice of my life. My enemies think when they have sacri- 
ficed my life, that they have destroyed me and my influence. How 
grossly dark are their conceptions of the nature of man ! No, mothers 
and daughters of Jerusalem, it is not so. They cannot destroy me, but 
they free me from the toils and vexations of an earthly life, and give 
me admission into a spiritual one which is full of beauty, interest and 
happiness. Yes, women of Jerusalem ; after I have drank of the bitter 
cup of death, my spirit goes to another world far superior to this. 
Where I go my enemies cannot come, for their gross natures, their 
ignorance, vices and wickedness will so much outweigh their virtues, 
that they will be eternally allied to the grosser matter of earth, and 
never ascend to the realms of purity and bliss. But you, my friends, 
who have wept for me in pure sympathy, who have forsaken the dark- 
ness of Mosaical superstition, and aspire to the true light, by following 
my doctrines, this world of beauty and bliss shall be open to you. 
There we will all meet again, and embrace each other in pure friendship 
and love." 

Then Jesus turning his regard to Mary and Martha, gazed upon them 
for a few moments with great tenderness, regret and love, and at length 
resumed his discourse : 

"Now, my dear sisters, I must bid you adieu. Believe me, that to 
the last beating of my heart, I shall be sensible of your kindness and 
tender sympathy with me, which will tend to assuage the bitter mo- 
ments of a cruel death. Weep not for me, mothers and daughters of 
Jerusalem, but weep for the city of your birth ; for the time will come, 
and it is not far distant, when the remaining two tribes of Israel will be 
scattered to the four winds of the earth, — their name as a nation will be 
lost, and they shall become the things of reproach, scorn and disgust to 
all the other nations of the earth as a people, so far lost to every thing 
noble, as to destroy the only man who endeavoured to save them. 
Woe, woe to Jerusalem ! " 

Jesus having ended his address, the procession was ordered to move 
on. Scarcely had he withdrawn his eyes from taking the last look of 
the daughters of Lazarus, when a piercing cry was heard, and Mary 
was seen to fall insensible to the ground. A young man, who was at 
no great distance, rushed to her assistance ; when taking her by the 
hand, he saw something which caused him to start with astonishment, 
and for a few moments checked his benevolent intentions. However, 
he soon recovered his presence of mind ; for, by gently placing his arm 
around the maiden, he raised her from the ground, and while her sister 
Martha and the rest of the females were engaged in looking on the 
procession and the last looks of Jesus, he slipped out of the crowd 
unperceived, carrying the maiden with him. 

In the meantime, the procession continued its course up the hill, and 
at length arrived at the loot of the cross. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 299 



VISION THIRTY-THIRD. 

Now a delicate haze passes over the Medium? s vision, when the previous 
sad scene dissolves from view. — But soon the haze is passed, when 
other scenes forming a moving panorama are presented, in which is 
revealed an incident of the tragic drama. 

The young man that had taken the insensible Mary in his arms, hur- 
ried from the tragic scene as quickly as possible ; and as the people of 
that vicinity were nearly all present at the place of execution, there 
was nobody to obstruct him in his progress, or be witness to the cause 
of his flight. As the maiden he carried was of light and delicate frame, 
he was not incommoded with her weight ; therefore he was soon en- 
abled to pass from the view of the multitude, and out of the reach of 
any of her friends who might be in search of her. 

On he went with unflagging energy. Leaving the main road, he 
turned into a path, which he pursued for some distance; then making 
several other turnings, he came to another road, and soon arrived at a 
small house which seemed to be known to him. He gave a signal by 
making a peculiar noise, when immediately a rough looking man made 
his appearance. A few words were rapidly exchanged, w T hen the latter 
disappeared behind the house, and the former rested himself with the 
maiden in his arms. After a few minutes had elapsed, the man of the 
house re-appeared, leading a dark brow T n horse of great beauty and 
vigor. Then in course of a little time, the young man with the assis- 
tance of his companion, was mounted upon the animal, with the 
maiden enwrapped in a mantle. Giving a signal of adieu to Ins com- 
panion, he started at full speed along the road to the eastward. In the 
course of a few minutes, he came to the branch of the Kidron, opposite 
to the north-eastern slope of Mount Olivet. Along this he continued 
for a few minutes, when he plunged through it to the other side ; thence 
taking a road among the hills called the Scopus, he soon arrived at the 
solitary dwelling of Hester, the Sybil. 

The young man rode into the yard, and forward to the porch of the 
house; he then called aloud for assistance, when two male servants 
made their appearance, who enabled him to alight with his burden. 
Leaving his beast in charge of the domestics, he rushed into the house 
and entered the private apartment of the Sybil — the latter being present 
with two of her handmaidens. 

The mistress* and her companions were greatly alarmed at the ap- 
pearance of the young man, who without ceremony 6r remark, went to 
a couch and relieved himself of his fair and insensible burden, 

"Cosbi!" exclaimed the Sybil in great alarm, " what means this? 
What maiden is this thus insensible?" 

"Dear mistress," said Cosbi — for he it was — as soon as he eould re- 
cover his power of speech, for he panted for breath after his great ex- 
ertion, "give orders that thy handmaidens do their best to restore the 
maiden to consciousness and health, and then J will explain all tlii.-, 
seeming mystery to thee." 



300 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

Cosbi then threw himself upon a seat to recover his exhaustion, while 
the Sybil and her attendants proceeded to administer to the insensible 
Mary. After some minutes exertion and application of restoratives, 
the insensible Mary began to give some signs of returning sense. She 
sighed deeply, then uttered a faint moan and turned her head from side 
to side. 

"She is recovering," said the Sybil to Cosbi; "but it will require 
some time yet before she returns to consciousness. She must have 
received a terrible shock. Now, Cosbi, inform me who this maiden is, 
and explain the nature of her swoon." 

"I will certainly do so, dear mistress," replied Cosbi in an undertone, 
"but thou must first bid thy handmaids to retire, for what I have to 
say is of secret importance." 

The Sybil then told her attendants to retire, but to remain within 
call, as she would do herself what was further necessary for the re- 
covery of the invalid. Then the attendants, after making their obei- 
sance, left the chamber ; when Cosbi immediately sprang to his feet 
and advanced towards his mistress, his eyes sparkling with joy. 
Then taking her hand, he pressed it fervently to his lips and observed: 

"Kind and beloved mistress, Cosbi' s heart now beats with great joy. 
During the whole of our acquaintance, I have been anxious to do 
something by which I could testify to thee my gratitude and love, for 
the kindness and fostering care that thou hast ever shown to me. The 
time has now arrived ; I can now administer a soothing balm to the 
sorrow which has so long pressed upon thy heart." 

"What mystical language is this, Cosbi?" cried the Sybil, with im- 
patience and vexation depicted upon her countenance. "Be more ex- 
plicit, I pray thee. My heart is ready to snap asunder with suspense." 

"Be patient a little while, dear mistress," returned Cosbi, "and in- 
terrupt not the course of my narrative. Thou must also be guarded 
not to interrupt the recovery of that afflicted maiden, who has been 
stricken insensible by the shock of unmitigated woe ; for her history is 
connected with the tale I have to unfold." 

"That maiden's history connected with mine! Who can she be?" 
cried the Sybil in astonishment, as she rushed to the couch and gazed 
upon the prostrate Mary in a state of suspense and wild conjecture. 
Then returning to Cosbi, she added; "I know her not. O! Cosbi, if 
thou hast love and gratitude for me, do not keep me in suspense any 
longer. Hasten with thy narration." 

"I will do so," returned Cosbi cooly. "Thou must remember the 
last night I was in thy presence, previous to my leaving thee to serve 
my new master. O ! cursed be that day when I engaged to render him 
service, for I now know the fatal results of it." 

"Yes, Cosbi; I remember the night to which thou alludest. What 
of it? " answered the Sybil eagerly. 

"Dost thou remember telling me," resumed Cosbi, "that if in the 

course of my travels, I should see a certain bracelet like the one thou 

didst show me, I should endeavour to trace up the history of its owner?" 

"Yes, yes; I did tell the so," shrieked out the Sybil, as she rushed 

towards Cosbi, placed her hands upon his shoulders, and gazed upon 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 301 

him with an intensity of gaze, as though she would penetrate the depths 
of his soul. "Hast thou seen it?— knowest thou anything of it? Tell 
me quick.' ' 

"I have," answered Cosbi. 

"O where is it? Tell me immediately, or I shall die." 

Then Cosbi taking the Sybil by the hand, led her to the couch of the 
prostrate Mary, and taking up one of the hands of the latter, observed: 

"Here is the bracelet, if I mistake not. It now remains for thee to 
solve the mystery how this maiden came by it. I am afraid that though 
its absence has been the means of inflicting upon thee thy past sorrow, 
its recovery will be the means of still greater." 

While Cosbi was making these remarks, the Sybil was intently gazing 
upon the bracelet which was around the wrist of Mary, as she held her 
hand. At length, raising her eyes and uttering a pious ejaculation, she 
exclaimed : 

"It is the same! What mysterious circumstances have brought it 
into the possession of this maiden, and now so unaccountably brought 
to my view? Who is this maiden, Cosbi?" 

But before Cosbi could reply to the question, the eyes of Mary opened, 
when she looked around her with surprise and timidity. Becoming 
conscious that she was amidst strangers in a strange place, she faintly 
inquired : 

' ' Where am I ? What has passed ? ' ' 

"Make thyself easy, fair maiden," said Cosbi in a soothing tone of 
voice; "thou art among strangers, but friends. lam acquainted in 
part with the unhappy state of things which have thus sorely impressed 
thee with a poignant sorrow. We sympathize with thee in thy sore 
affliction, and will tender thee all the consolation that kind friends can 
impart." 

"Ah! now I remember what has happened!" cried Mary, as she 
started from her recumbent position and looked around her with an 
expression of the wildest horror. Then wringing her hands in agony, 
she exclaimed: " O God ! why hast thou been so cruel as to suffer the 
wicked to prevail over the righteous? Yes, he is gone; by this time, 
his handsome person 4 is become a mangled corpse, exposed to the gaze 
of a cruel world, and the scoff of his enemies." Then uttering another 
lamentable wail, a gush of tears came to her relief. 

"Of whom does she speak?" inquired the Sybil of Cosbi, as she 
drew him aside and spoke in a low tone of voice. Some new appre- 
hension of evil seemed suddenly to cross her mind as she put the 
question, for her cheeks became pale and her lips quivered with intense 
painful emotions. 

"She speaks of the man who has gained her heart's purest affection," 
answered Cosbi in a solemn tone, and with a distressed expression of 
countenance. "The renowned Jesus, who pays the forfeit of his life 
to-day, for being a better and wiser man than his enemies, was the 
tender lover and affianced husband of this afflicted maiden. May tin* 
Gods forgive me for what I have done,! I, too, have been among his 
persecutors, though ignorant of their designs and the results of the evil 
I did him." 



302 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

"Jesus the affianced husband of this maiden, sayestthou?" inquired 
the Sybil, as she trembled violently. 

"It is even so," responded Cosbi. "She is the daughter of Lazarus, 
of Bethany, who formerly resided at Nazareth in Galilee, whose family 
Jesus has been intimate with from his childhood." 

"And what connexion is there between this man Jesus and the brace- 
let this maiden wears?" inquired the Sybil, as she gasped for breath, 

"I know not," answered Cosbi. " But I perceive, dear mistress, this 
subject deeply affects thee. As soon as we can question the maiden, 
we shall know all." 

"My suspense will not allow me to wait longer," said the Sybil. 

She then turned to the couch of Mary, addressed to her some words 
of consolation, and advised repose to recover her agitated feelings. 
Crossing the apartment she went to a recess, from which she took a 
small vessel containing a soothing cordial, a portion of which she pre- 
vailed upon the distressed Mary to take; then smoothing the couch 
and adjusting some pillows, she recommended her to take sleep. Then 
taking her hand on which was the bracelet, she observed : 

" Would it not be better to take off this bracelet? Its weight and 
pressure may mar thy slumbers." 

Mary started and drew her hand quickly away, as she replied : 

" No ; I cannot part with it. I dare not part with it an instant, unless 
I find some one who has a greater claim to it than I have. Till then, I 
must retain it and press it close to my heart. Yes ; I must keep it to 
the day of my death — but by the sad turn of events, I feel that will 
not be long." 

"Dear maiden," said the Sybil soothingly and affectionately, "thou 
hast aroused within me a great interest concerning this bracelet. If 
thou wouldst not consider it imposing upon thy delicacy, or too much 
intruding on secret matters, I would wish thee to tell me from whom 
thou didst obtain it." 

"Thy request shall be granted," replied Mary. Then she rose from 
her recumbent position, looked steadfastly at the bracelet for a few 
moments, kissed it and observed to herself: "It is well perhaps as it 
is. I have waited long and patiently in this life, in hopes that my 
wishes would be fulfilled, and met with nothing but disappointment. 
My last hope now, is to be united to him in that beautiful world in 
which he taught me to believe. My time will not be long before I go ; 
I must, therefore, endeavour to find a friend to take charge of this 
sacred relic. To whom can I better entrust it than to this kind woman? 
I will tell her the whole truth." Then Mary, looking up to the Sybil, 
resumed her reply : 

" I received this bracelet not long since, from one of the greatest, 
wisest and best of men, the only man that has gained my soul's affec- 
tion. His love was pure and ardent for me, as mine is for him. Our 
beings were united by one sympathy, love, hope and desire. His 
many virtues raised up enemies against him, who conspired against 
him and finally worked his destruction. In the last interview I had 
with him, he confided to me a secret concerning his supposed parentage, 
to this effect : The persons we both had been taught to consider his 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 303 

parents, were not such. He said he had lately discovered it, and that 
he still remained ignorant who his parents were. He said that he had 
received from his foster mother a bracelet, which had been left with 
him when an infant, and was supposed to belong to his true mother, 
whoever she is." 

"Who then is this man of whom thou speakest? Speak quick, I 
pray thee," cried the half frantic Sybil. 

"He is the unfortunate man called Jesus, who is now undergoing an 
ignominious death at Golgotha," answered Mary, sobbingly. 

The Sybil clasped her forehead, as she uttered a dreadful moan. In 
this position she remained some moments, her bosom heaving with 
violent emotions. Then suddenly starting and apparently shaking off 
her intense grief, with an air of desperate resolution she seized the 
hand of Mary, as she observed : 

"Dear maiden, I must have this bracelet. If this unfortunate man 
is not deprived of life, or should there be any delay, it is possible that 
I may save him." 

Mary yielded the bracelet to the Sybil, when the latter turning to 
Cosbi, observed: 

"Cosbi, see that my servants prepare me a horse immediately." 

Cosbi left the apartment to execute the order of the Sybil, when the 
latter bending down to Mary, spoke a few words in a low tone, con- 
cluding by telling her to " hope for the best. She must instantly depart 
for the city, and in the meantime, she would leave her in charge of 
Cosbi and the female attendants." 

The Sybil then rushed from the apartment. 



VISION THIRTY-FOURTH. 

Once more, the Medium resigns his mental freedom to the Spirit's con- 
trolling power; when, from the inner perception of the souVs con- 
sciousness, he shudders at the awful scene disclosed. 

On a commanding site of the north-western part of Jerusalem, stood 
the palace of Herod Antipas, which he occupied on his casual visits to 
the city. It was a small but superb edifice, designed by Greek Archi- 
tects, and built, principally, by the most skillful workmen from Greece, 
A small retinue of officers, menials and guards were maintained, suffi- 
cient to support and display his kingly rank as Tetrarch of Galileo. 
Perea and Iturea, but nothing demonstrative of political power. 

The day had nearly closed, for the sun was sinking in the Western, 
horizon, when Herod was seated or reclining upon a oouoh in one of his 
magnificent chambers, which was decorated with all the gorgeous. 
display that inordinate wealth could produce in those days, to please and 
pamper the meretricious taste of a despotic ruler of the people. There 
was an air of disquietude and disgust upon his countenance, as though 
naught but disagreeable and painful thoughts were passing, or had 



304 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

passed through his mind. There seemed to be a surging up of 
reminiscences before his mental eye, of past follies, vices, crimes and 
acts of ambition, which did not repay him with the felicity he had anti- 
cipated — causing him to feel a disgust and loathing for the very objects 
he had acquired at the sacrifice of virtue, truth and justice. He had 
seized, with a tyrant's grasp, all the pleasures of life, without heeding 
the rights or just claims of others, and devoured them with an inordinate 
appetite, leaving himself in his latter days but the dregs of his un- 
hallowed feastings. Now, he regarded all things with apathy, or a 
painful remembrance of some evil deed of which he had been guilty in 
their procurement. From time to time he sipped from a goblet of 
precious wine, but his libations did not chase from his mind his dis- 
agreeable thoughts — for as the exhilarant produced its effects, they rose 
up before his conscious eye in more vivid colors and with more ghastly 
horrors. At length, he tried to shut out the pictures of the external 
world and the images of thought, in sleep. He closed his eyes, and in a 
few minutes he seemed lost in oblivion. But even this relief was denied 
him, for one of his household officers entered the chamber in haste, and 
said hurriedly, as he approached him — 

" Gracious Lord ! pardon the intrusion, but I thought it proper to 
make the announcement." 

"What is it, fellow, that thou disturbest me?" demanded Herod in 
an angry mood, as he started from his recumbent position. 

" My Lord," answered the officer, who trembled before Herod's angry 
glance, "there is a woman who desires an audience; she says her busi- 
ness is of the greatest importance ; that it is a case of life and death, and 
does not admit of a moment's delay. Shall I admit her to your Lordly 
presence?" 

U A woman! A case of life or death!" repeated Herod, in surprise, 
his angry mood giving place to an aroused curiosity. " Knowest thou 
who she is?" 

" She is called Hester, the Sybil of Scopus," answered the officer. 

" I have heard of that woman, but know her not," said Herod, whose 
curiosity began to be vividly excited. He found anything that would 
arouse his interest for a few minutes would be a relief to the dull mo- 
notony of the hours he passed so wearily ; he therefore determined to see 
the woman, and gave the officer permission to admit her. The latter 
left the apartment, and in a short time returned, followed by the person 
known as the Sybil ; then the officer, by a signal from Herod, retired 
from his presence to an inner chamber. 

With a hasty step the Sybil hurried across the chamber, with a wild- 
ness in her eyes and a firmness expressed on her compressed lips, as 
she stood before the Tetrarch and slightly inclined her person, as she 
observed — 

" Herod Antipas, the nature of the interview I seek of thee forbids all 
ceremony and punctilious marks of respect." 

" Thy unceremonious and abrupt appearance before me, lacks much 
of the dignity due my rank," replied Herod, with some degree of sur- 
prise and hauteur, " but go on, woman ; state thy business— I will hear 
thee." 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 305 

" The virtue of my cause will excuse my rudeness," returned the 
Sybil, "when thou shalt understand that thy word can save the life of 
an innocent and virtuous man." 

" My word save a man's life ! " exclaimed Herod, with a scoffing laugh, 
"It has generally been the reverse." 

" That is too true, I fear," replied the woman, " but now is the time to 
do an act of mercy and justice, which will atone for some acts of less 
virtue. Herod Antipas, there is a man of virtue and wisdom, whose life 
is now at stake, if he has not already lost it, when a word from thee 
could save it, if it pleased thee to do so." 

"Who is this man for whom thou pleadest my interference ? " de- 
manded Herod. 

" He is the renowned Jesus ; a man of inestimable virtues and great 
wisdom," replied the Sybil, in a hurried and distressed tone of voice. 
"He is about being made a sacrifice to the hatred of his enemies; I beg 
thee to intercede with Pontus Pilate to save him from the horrid fate 
they design him." 

" The renowned Jesus ! " exclaimed Herod, with a laugh, " What right 
have I to save the life of a common malefactor — a public agitator and 
blasphemer of the Holy Temple?" 

" O, King! have mercy upon this man and save him. He is not what 
he is represented to be by his enemies. His life is not the only one 
dependent upon thy word of intercession, for mine is enwrapped in his," 
said the Sybil, in a beseeching tone of voice. Then she fell down before 
him in an humble crouching position, and added : 

"King Herod, save this man's life, I beseech thee; thou knowest not 
what joy it will bring to thine own breast in after times." 

"It ismseless, woman, to plead for this man's life, I will not intercede 
for him, for I like him not," answered Herod, angrily. 

" If he was thine own son, wouldst thou not endeavour to save him? " 
inquired the Sybil, as she intently fixed her gaze upon him. 

"That would probably alter the case," replied Herod laughing. 
"However, as that is not the case, I must tell thee, woman, I like not 
the man. A word of mine might have saved him yesterday, but he, 
low born fellow that he is, had the presumption to tell me, that the 
blood which coursed through his heart probably came from as kingly 
a Sire as I am. For this audacity in placing himself on an equality 
with me, I gave my word for his condemnation, when I might have 
saved him." 

A groan of anguish burst from the Sybil, who after a few moments, 
rose from her humiliating position and stood erect; when casting a look 
of the most intense severity and awe inspiring solemnity upon him, 
the haughty monarch seemed to quail with an indefinable dread. 

"Herod Antipas," the Sybil said at length, in a low tone of voice and 
emphatic manner, with her hand raised and finger pointing upward, 
"I now perceive that this unfortunate man's late is not to be classed 
with the ordinary results of human action. The Qodfl have interfered 
in this, and in their wisdom, preordained it to be so; not with the view 
of inflicting misery upon him, but to punish and eternally condemn 
his unnatural parents. Herod, that unfortunate man, when he told 
20 



306 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

thee that the blood which flowed through his heart came probably from 
as kingly a source as thine, told the truth.' ' 

"Woman! what meanest thou by this insolence ?" cried Herod in 
terror and rage. 

"I mean to inform thee," replied the Sybil, with particular distinct- 
ness and emphasis of enunciation, "that man Jesus, whom thou wouldst 
not save from an ignominious death, but gave thy word and influence 
to destroy, that unfortunate man is thy son." 

Herod sprang from his couch and rushed towards the woman, with 
the greatest of astonishment and terror depicted upon his countenance. 
After gazing upon her intently for a few moments, he at length said, in 
a voice husky and harsh : 

"Woman! who art thou that comest here with this damning tale? 
What meanest thou by saying this Jesus is my son?" 

"I mean," returned the Sybil, "that thou art his father, and I, un- 
natural wretch that I was, am his mother. Herod, look upon this 
careworn and sorrow stricken face of mine, and see if thou canst dis- 
cover any relics of the beauty that once fascinated thy lascivious nature, 
under the form of the beautiful and innocent Glaphira, the Princess of 
Iturea. Herod, behold in me the victim of thy lust — the unhappy 
mother of that Jesus, who is the offspring of our sinful connexion. 
Yes, Herod Antipas ; as true as I am Glaphira, who once loved thee 
and confided in thy honor and professions, thou gavest life to that man 
whom now thou hast helped to destroy." 

As the Sybil made this astounding declaration to the ears of Herod, 
he seemed to be struck dumb and motionless for a time with astonish- 
ment and horror. His eyes were firmly fixed upon hers with an ex- 
pression of maniacy. With his lips distended, all the functions of his 
nature seemed to have ceased, and like a statue he stood motionless, 
the representative of terror. At length, a revulsion took place ; a deep 
sigh found escape from his breast; his lips trembled, as he falteringly 
replied : 

" Glaphira! is it really thou? I think I can recognize some remains 
of thy former self. Yes ; it must be Glaphira. Ah ! it now seems to 
me that I have wronged thee. But what is this thou tellest me? — that 
I have a son by thee— that this man Jesus, whom I have persecuted, is 
my son? By the God of Israel, Glaphira, this is horrid. Ah! it cannot 
be true ; I cannot believe it ! Say it is not true, Glaphira." 

" Doubt it not, Herod," returned the Sybil in a softened tone of voice, 
as she perceived that he was affected with a degree of contrition for the 
past, when he had recognized her. " Shouldst thou require a proof that 
he is thy son, I have it here to give thee." 

The Sybil then produced a pair of bracelets from her dress, which 
she held before him, as she resumed : 

"Dost thou remember these bracelets?" 

Herod seized the bracelets and regarded them intently, and the Sybil 
continued : 

"When I was young and beautiful, the innocent and respected 
daughter of a princely house among the noble families of Iturea, thou 
wert fascinated with my person and didst woo me, and didst prevail 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 307 

over my innocent heart to love thee. I was of simple mind, for I con- 
fided in all thy protestations of love. One day thou gavest me these 
bracelets, and didst observe at the time—* receive these bracelets, Gla- 
phira, as a testimony of my undying love for thee. Should I ever 
prove unfaithful or cruel to thee, may the Gods cause them to be the 
proof of my faithlessness, and bring punishment upon me in my latter 
days.' Dost thou recognize them now? " 

"I recognize the ill fated baubles," answered Herod in a surly tone of 
voice, "but what proof are they that Jesus is my son?" * * • 

To make the parentage of Jesus clear, the history of the bracelets 
must be related. Iturea was one of the countries assigned to the 
despotic sway of Herod the Great, which was governed by a Noble or 
Prince in his name. Glaphira was the daughter of this noble, who, at 
the time referred to, was a maiden of great beauty and virtue. Herod 
Antipas, the youngest of Herod's sons, having occasion to visit her 
father's court on matters of court business for his father, saw this young 
maiden princess, and soon became enamoured of her beauty; but not 
having any honorable intentions of marriage, he sought to gain pos- 
session of her person onh to gratify his lascivious passions. He loved 
her not; yet he made great pretensions that he did, and soon gained 
the pure affections of the maiden. On one of his visits, he made her a 
present of a pair of golden bracelets of beautiful workmanship, and 
made the memorable remark, ' that if ever he should prove faithless or 
cruel to her, may the Gods cause them to bear witness of his wicked- 
ness, and bring punishment to him in his latter days.' He finally 
prevailed over her chastity, and having gained the object of his desires, 
he did not renew his visits but entirely deserted her. Glaphira, in the 
course of time, 'finding that she was about to become a mother, and 
afraid of the disgrace she should bring upon her family and friends, 
left her father's house clandestinely, and sought out her faithless lover 
in Judea. She found him, but instead of being received with love and 
tenderness, he treated her with scorn and contumely, and discarded 
her from his presence. She then fled into a distant country, living in 
secret till she gave birth to a son. Her bosom was now filled with rage, 
which prompted her to seek vengeance upon her cruel lover ; so that 
she had no place in her heart for the affections and duties of a mother. 
She found that her infant would be a hindrance and disgrace to her 
wherever she went, and a clog to whatever she wished to do; she, 
therefore determined to get rid of it. One evening, she left her x^lace of 
concealment with her child, and travelled some distance with it, when 
she found two travellers, a man and his wife, resting on the roadside. ' 
She prevailed upon them to take the child and rear it as one of their 
own; to make no inquiries concerning its parents,— and with the child 
she gave a large sum of money in gold. Besides, she gave one of the 
golden bracelets that Herod had presented to her, requesting the travel- 
lers that they should keep it for the child, and give it to him when he 
became of man's age, with the information that lie was not then son. 
This agreement being made with the travellers, she gave her child a 
last embrace, and then resigned it to their keeping, and departed. She 
was never more seen or heard of by them. These travellers made their 



308 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

■way to a village in Galilee by the name of Nazareth, where, under the 
names of Joseph the Carpenter and Mary his wife, they were considered 
to be the parents of the child. 

The child grew in health, strength and wisdom, under the name of 
Jose, believing that the good woman, Mary, was his mother, and the 
simple, honest old man, Joseph, to be his father. Thus he continued 
until old Joseph died, when receiving some money, he left for foreign 
parts to finish his education. Mary, his foster mother, from some 
cause unknown, had not revealed to him that she was not his mother. 
Jose" was absent many years, when on his return to the village of Naza- 
reth, he found his supposed mother in the arms of death. She however 
recognized him, and hei last action was to point to a casket, in which 
was the revelation in vriting that she was not his mother, and how he 
came into her possession. In the casket, also was the golden bracelet 
given to Mary by Glaphira, as a clue for him to discover his parentage. 
This was the first intimation that Jesus had of the truth of his 
parentage. He kept the matter a secret to himself, and during the 
three years he was travelling and pr.eaching reform, he endeavoured 
to discover his parents, but all in vain. At last, on the night that Judas 
betrayed him, he revealed his history as far as he knew it, to Mary, the 
daughter of Lazarus, in the garden of Gethsemane, and confided to her 
the bracelet, to keep as a memento of his love. Mary wore it from that 
moment, with the intent never to part with it, unless the parents of 
Jesus should discover and claim it. 

In the meantime, Glaphira, the princess of Iturea, gradually lost her 
desire of vengeance against her faithless lover, and the yearnings of a 
mother began to spring up in her bosom. She regretted that she had 
parted with her child, and would willingly have regain it, but she 
could not find any clue to the people to whom she had given it. She 
travelled for many years in many directions to find it, but without 
success. At last, she determined to adopt a new course, solely with the 
view of recovering her child if possible, for that was the paramount 
object of her existence. She took up her residence in the vicinity of 
Jerusalem, and assumed the character of a Sybil, thinking thereby she 
should be enabled to acquire the principal secrets of persons of high 
station, and thus find a clue to her long lost child — for the idea never 
entered her head that her offspring could be found among the lowly. 
When her confidential servant, Cosbi, was about leaving her to enter 
the service of Judas, she revealed in part to him the nature of her 
sorrow. She showed him a bracelet, and desired him to make inquiries 
' and search after its counterpart, and of the person in whose possession 
it should be found. Cosbi promised to do so, but during all his travels 
with Judas and Jesus, he met with no success. At last, when Jesus 
was being led to execution, Mary, the affianced to the victim of treach- 
ery, becoming insensible, Cosbi discovered the bracelet upon her wrist. 
He instantly conveyed her to the house of Glaphira, and thus the latter 
became re-possessed of the bracelet, and learned that Jesus was her 
son. The rest is known. 

When Glaphira told Herod that Jesus was his son, and showed him 
the bracelets as proof, bad a man as he always had been, he felt an 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 309 

instinctive horror at the possibility of its being true. He therefore said 
to her — 

"I recognize the ill fated baubles, but wbat proof are they that this 
Jesus is my son?" 

"The proof is certain, Herod Antipas," replied the Sybil; "but there 
is not time to explain the particulars now. Let it suffice to say the 
bracelet has been returned to me in a providential manner, and I have 
discovered that this Jesus is the offspring of our united folly and sin." 

"Then the Gods have cursed me!" exclaimed Herod, as he struck 
himself upon the breast in the excitement of his terror and anguish. 
"In conformity with the invocation I made to them when I gave thee 
these bracelets, the Gods are about punishing me for my wickedness. 
O! wretched, impious man that I am! That impious invocation is 
about being fulfilled. My wickedness is made manifest by these 
bracelets, and my punishment begins, now that I have arrived at the 
gray haired age." 

"There is now no time for self accusation, Herod," said Glaphira 
mildly, "consider the object of my visit. I wish, if it be possible, that 
thou shouldst save our son from this ignominious death. Hasten, I 
beseech thee, to the Governor, and if there be time, prevent this ex- 
ecution." 

"Yes! yes! — I will! I will!" exclaimed Herod, arousing himself 
suddenly, as though he had just awakened from a dreadful dream. 
Then he called aloud for his attendants; soon an officer appeared, and 
Herod gave orders to prepare a horse, as he wished to ride forth. At 
that instant, Pontus Pilate made his appearance. Herod then rushed 
towards him, and said in a hurried and fearful tone of voice, his counte- 
nance being of a ghastly pallor — 

"What has been done with the man Jesus?" 

"He is crucified," answered Pilate, as he looked upon Herod and 
the Sybil with surprise, not being able to comprehend the scene before 
him. 

"Crucified!" echoed Herod with a sudden start of horror, his eyes 
gleaming with wildness, and his countenance expressive of the greatest 
distress. "Then God's curse and vengeance are upon me for the ini- 
quities of my life, which commenced in faithlessness and cruelty to 
this woman, and now culminates in my being a participator in the 
murder of my son." 

Then Herod struck his forehead and staggered across the chamber, 
where he stood for some moments, swaying to and fro like a nv<l bend- 
ing before the wind, and at length he fell prostrate and insensible upon 
the floor. 

Glaphira, whose feelings had been aroused to the highest pitch of 
mortal agony by the announcement of Pilate, uttered one loud, piercing 
shriek, rushed from the chamber, and left the palace. In a few minutes 
she was mounted upon her arabian steed which had brought her from 
her home, when, giving direction and impulse to the mettlesome crea- 
ture, she darted like a meteor through the city in the direction of the 
place of execution. On, on she sped, but heeded not what she saw ; far 
palaces, towers and the people glided before her a Isiou like the wild 



310 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

and fanciful images of the mind in a feverish dream. At length she 
passed the bounds of the city, and quickly sped along the country road 
to the base of the rising ground called Golgotha. Springing from her 
steed, she rushed up to the fatal spot and stood transfixed with re- 
awakened horror at the dreadful sight that burst upon her vision. 

The sun of day had set, but still a twilight remaining enabled her to 
distinguish all things around and within the fatal spot. All spectators 
of the dread tragedy had long since departed ; a single sentinel, who 
paced to and fro at a short distance, was left to guard the bloody cross. 
With suspended breath and eyes motionless, Glaphira gazed upon the 
dread object before her. Her maternal eyes, which once looked down 
with a mother's fondness upon her innocent offspring, now beheld the 
handsome form of manhood naked, lacerated, bleeding and outstretched 
upon the felon's cross. His handsome head, whereon sat the majesty 
of wisdom, was now encircled by a wreath of thorns, as a scoff and 
mockery by his cruel persecutors. His beautiful lustrous eyes, which 
were so expressive of pure and holy emotions, were now lustreless and 
gently closed by their lifeless lids. His clear transparent skinned 
cheeks, that used to mantle w T ith the glow of health, and the blush 
indicating the pure susceptibilities of his soul, were now blanched with 
the pallor of death. And his symmetrical lips, from between which 
were wont to flow words of eloquence, wisdom, truth and justice, were 
now closed in death, but still expressive of his mild, sweet nature, even 
in the last bitter pang. His manly, symmetrical limbs were relaxed 
and powerless. The Divine and Great Spirit of Jesus had departed, 
and all that was left of that amiable, wise and benevolent man was an 
inanimate corpse. 

The scene at length became dark and solemn. No one was there to 
bear witness to the soul crushing agony of the afflicted mother, except 
the sentinel who was pacing to and fro. Glaphira' s horror stricken 
form began to relax, as the consciousness of her misery gleamed upon 
her mind. A deep sigh and a moan escaped from her ; then her lips 
moved, as she half audiby uttered — 

" Yes, he is my son. The same outline of features as when I saw him 
a babe. What cruel God or Gods have thus controlled his fate? Why 
should the innocent and just in this life suffer for the iniquities of the 
wicked ? Why should an innocent child suffer for the iniquities of his 
parents? Why should truth, honor, virtue and beneficence be sacri- 
ficed, and all the base and guilty passions of man be allowed to triumph? 
Either the Gods are unjust, or we poor mortals know T not how to judge 
of destiny. O ! my heart grows cold ! I have now naught else to live 
for. Now let the gloomy wings of death overshadow me at the feet of 
my ill fated son." 

Then Glaphira crouched down at the foot of the cross,, and before the 
sands of another hour had run, the stars gleamed over the lifeless 
bodies of an ill fated mother and her murdered son. 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 311 



VISION THIRTY-FIFTH. 

At length the Spirits, by their unseen powers, control the Medium's mind, 
to portray the final scene connected with the tragic history of the 
Great and Good Jesus of Nazareth, 

The shades of night hung over Jerusalem— a mirky mist, more than 
usual, seemed to enshroud it ; scarcely a twinkling star could be dis- 
cerned to mark the boundaries between the earth and the heavens, so 
intensely gloomy was the scene around. 

The spirits of the inhabitants corresponded with the scene, for a pro- 
found sadness pressed heavily upon the hearts of all those who were 
awake, as they with tears and sighs were filling the air with their wail- 
ings. Troublous dreams haunted those who had fallen into slumbers ; 
some produced through fear of persecution, and others from the stings 
of guilty consciences. The cruel deed of murder just perpetrated at the 
place of sculls, was the subject of thought by the murdered man's 
friends and foes. His manly person extended naked, bleeding and 
maimed upon the cross, presented itself with great terror to the minds 
of the guilty, and the inward whisperings of self-accusing consciences 
began to agonize the souls of his murderers. Every howl or whistle of 
the wind, as it echoed through their habitations, seemed to bring to their 
ears the cries of murder and vengeance from the murdered .man on t lie- 
cross. Among his friends the hours were passed in tears, prayers and 
wailings. Thus some hours had passed toward the middle of night, 
when the moon, broad and deeply red, like a ball of fire, was seen to 
struggle up through the mirky atmosphere over the western hills. 
Brighter and smaller it became as it ascended into the heavens, and the 
mist was gradually dispersed : then the stars, with their twinkling light, 
began to deck and enliven the scene. The stupendous walls, the palaces, 
towers and temple of the Holy City began to assume existence and form. 
Mount Olivet, with her rich foliage, stood out in relief at her side, and 
down the deep valley of the Kidron the running stream vibrated inces- 
santly with the moon's reflected light. Just above the stream, at the 
base of Olivet, the square marble monument of Absalom could be 
plainly discerned, and not far from thence, a few feet in the rear, with 
the facade cut out of the solid marble rock, with a tier of pillars, was 
the excavation in the mountain, called the Tombs of Jehoshaphat ; and 
before these solitary tombs, a man closely enwrapped in a mantle was 
pacing to and fro. 

That lonely man was Judas, the traitor. His steps were stealthy as 
those of a robber proceeding to a deed of crime, and as he paced, his 
head was bowed down, as he revolved many disquiet and apprehensive 
thoughts. Every now and then he would start and listen, as though 
he heard something to arouse his suspicions or confirm his fears, and 
then resume his restless motions. 

Judas, as soon as he had betrayed his confiding master, found that 
he had aroused a great part of the people against him, and that it was 
no longer safe for him to remain in the city. He was afraid to venture 



312 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

abroad by day from his place of concealment; but as soon as the 
tragedy of the crucifix was over, he sent to Saul, desiring him to 
come to him without the city at the Tombs of Jehoshaphat, and be 
prepared to fulfil his promises with him ; then he would leave for a 
distant country. Saul promised to meet him and comply with all his 
requests. Thus it was that Judas was at that particular spot. 

Previous to the last treacherous act of Judas, he was bold, persevering 
and cool in contemplation and preparation of his crowning act of 
villainy ; but now the deed was done, all his fortitude and callousness 
had forsaken him. He shrank aghast at the consciousness of his guilt, 
and though he previously thought himself a victim of necessity, in 
being obliged to do what his conscience would not approve, now he 
considered there was no circumstance that could justify freachery and 
murder. When he first joined his betrayed master, he had no true or 
sublime ideas of a God, or of a future state ; for the rude, barbarous 
notions taught him of the Mosaical Jehovah did not fill him with 
reverence, or influence his moral conduct for the better. But since 
then, he had learned many sublime principles, and formed many noble 
conceptions of a True God and future state from Jesus, which frequently 
presented themselves to his mind and sank into his soul. Now, that 
he found himself a traitor, and murderer of one of the kindest and 
best of men that he had ever seen, his inexcusable wickedness and 
ingratitude glared upon his conscience; so that he trembled with in- 
ward agony and awful apprehensions of a future fate, which before 
had never given him any uneasiness. He found that he had something 
to dread, more than the loss of his mortal life. This new view of his 
wicked acts filled him with regret, remorse and anguish, and an in- 
definable terror shook him to the soul, subjecting his former boldness 
to a state of cowardice before his own self-inspection. Again he started 
and listened, for he thought he heard somebody cry Traitor, Murderer; 
then he trembled violently, and a cold sweat oozed from his forehead. 

44 Wretch that I am!" he said to himself. "Would that I had never 
been born, or that I had remained an abject bondman, subject to all 
the ills of servitude, than to have been tempted by that demon, Saul, 
to do deeds of the blackest dye, for the sake of wealth and freedom. 
O, Saul ! Saul ! thou hast made me a demon like thyself, and if there 
be a God who shall hereafter judge of man according to his deeds in 
this world, how great will be the transgressions thou must answer. 
Thou hast not only thine own iniquities to answer, but mine also ; for 
through thee have I acted throughout this deep scheme of treachery, 
injustice and cruelty. Would that I had the power of recalling my 
acts, not all thy wealth, the gift of my freedom, or thy sophistry could 
force me to repeat them." 

Judas gave another start, for a new suspicion suddenly crossed his 
mind, which he seemed to contemplate for a few moments with a fearful 
interest. At length he continued his walk, and the train of his thoughts 
went on — 

44 And after all that I have done for him, it is possible that he will fail 
me in all his promises. Can he be so desperately vile as to rob me of 
all those benefits, for which I have served him so faithfully, at the 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 313 

sacrifice of all virtuous principles? O, no; he cannot be so perverse. 
He cannot be like a diseased dog, willing to bite one of his own species. 
But let me not be too confiding, or sanguine in my expectations of this 
man. Shrewd as I am, and learned in all his secret ways, I may yet 
be mistaken with regard to his ultimate designs concerning me. Vil- 
lains, with all their guarded shrewdness, are but the dupes of each 
other; for as soon as their banded interests are severed, they seek each 
other's destruction. What reasons have I to depend upon Saul for a 
grateful recompense of my services? Do I not know that the great 
principle of his morality is, to use and sacrifice all things to the ac- 
complishment of the object he has in view,- and the securing of his 
personal safety? Now that my services are ended, according to our 
understanding, he may consider it convenient to prove false to me, or 
consider me a man too many upon the earth. Ah! something like an 
instinctive presentiment tells me that he will seek to rid me of my life ! 
What if I forestall him by taking his? This is a convenient place for 
a deed of blood, and I have a trusty weapon with me. It shall be so ; 
for it is too evident we two cannot walk within the same sphere." 

Judas then placed his hand within the bosom of his dress, from which 
he drew a long dagger or two edged knife, which he clutched with a 
tenacious grasp, while his eyes emitted a fearful excitement. He then 
continued to pace to and fro for a few moments longer, when he stopped 
to listen, as he thought he heard footsteps. This time he was not 
mistaken : footsteps were audible and distinct, seeming to be approach- 
ing him. He immediately concealed his dagger, and endeavoured to 
assume his usual composure. In a few moments the expected person 
made his appearance, when Saul, enveloped in a dark mantle, stood 
before him. 

"My dear Judas," said Saul in a pleasant tone of voice, as he threw 
off his mantle from his head, "I am here at thy request, what wouldst 
thou with me?" 

"The nature of my business with thee, Saul, is not so difficult to 
imagine, I should think," replied Judas tartly, as he cast a furtive 
glance at the former. " I wish for an acknowledgement of my services, 
and the fulfilment of thy promises, according to the compact we made 
in the ravine by the Lake Asphaltis. Thou knowest, from the nature 
and results of the dark service I have rendered thee, that the greater 
part of the people of the city are much excited against me, so much so, 
that I dare not go in public ; I must, therefore, retire into some distant 
country. Thus it is I call on thee for the fulfilment of my rights, ac- 
cording to thy word." 

"I acknowledge the justice of thy claims, dear Judas," repiied Saul 
in a tone of kindness and apparent sincerity, "and the prudence of thy 
determination in leaving this country, though I shall deeply lament 
thy loss and companionship, as well as thy great services. As thou 
hast been true to me, it behooves me to be the same to thee ; I have 
accordingly prepared myself to fulfil thy expectations." 

The moon by this time had risen high in the heavens, no cloud 
impeding its silver rays; so that the scene around was lit up with a 
soft tranquil light, rendering the actions and featuros of the two nieu 



314 THE TRUE HISTORY OF 

clearly distinguishable. Judas regarded Saul, as the latter spoke, with 
a serious searching glance, and Saul maintained one of a pleasing and 
frank nature, though at times a momentary restlessness was perceptible. 

"Hast thou brought me money? " demanded Judas. 

" Yes, my friend, I have brought thee two hundred shekels ; it is all 
I have at command at present," replied Saul, as he drew from under 
his mantle a bag containing money. "I will provide thee with more 
hereafter, wherever thou goest." 

Judas received the bag from Saul, and for a few moments he lifted 
it up and down, endeavouring to ascertain its contents by its seeming 
weight, and then observed : 

" Hast thou the bond of my servitude? which is of more consequence 
to me than this bag of money." 

"I have it," replied Saul, as he pulled from his girdle a small scroll 
of parchment, which he unrolled and presented to Judas. "Freely 
and with pleasure do I restore to thee all claims I have to thee as 
bondman. Here it is ; take it and examine it by the light of the moon, 
to satisfy thyself that all is correct." 

Judas took the document and proceeded to examine it, but at the same 
time he kept Saul in view, as though he was suspicious of his motions 
and designs. Saul, thinking that Judas' attention was wholly absorbed 
in the perusal of the document, turned suddenly aside and drew from 
under his dress a dagger, with which he sprang upon the latter, aiming 
a deadly thrust. But the vigilant eye of Judas was too quick for his 
movements, for quickly throwing up the arm and hand that held the 
document, he warded off the assassin's blow, and quickly dropping 
the bag of money which he held in the other hand, he struck his 
assailant a powerful blow in the breast, that sent him staggering back- 
ward some distance ; then quickly seizing his dagger from his girdle, 
he stood in a defiant position before his enemy, who a moment before 
was his professed friend and admirer. 

Saul finding himself repulsed in his attempt at murder, was at first 
disappointed and thrown into confusion ; but he soon recovered him- 
self, and made further preparation for renewing the attack by rolling 
his mantle around his left arm, with the intent of parrying the passes 
of his antagonist, and then he looked upon his enemy with an ex- 
pression of smiling hauteur rather than of an excited hatred. 

"Saul!" said Judas, as his eyes flashed with intense indignation, 
"this last act of thine convinces me that thy heart is blacker with sin 
than my long experience of thy villanies had enabled me to suppose." 

"My dear Judas," responded Saul in his usual tone of voice, ex- 
pressive of kindness and consideration for his opponent, though a 
malignant smile curled his lips, "I must confess that there is seeming 
reason in thy charge, yet it is not thus I would speak to thee. I would 
rather compliment thee, dear Judas, for thy shrewdness, for I did not 
think thou couldst have suspected my intentions, and thus have pre- 
pared thyself to thwart me in my attempt." 

"Monster! Demon that thou art!" exclaimed Judas in desperation. 
" Couldst thou not allow me to depart in peace and safety, after all the 
services I have, rendered thee in the accomplishment of thy iniquitous 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 315 

designs? After having made me sacrifice every noble principle, all 
sense of noble manhood and humanity, all ties of virtue, religion and 
morality, — making me a base instrument to execute thy black crimes. 
Now, thou would recompense me by taking my life like any common 
assassin." 

"Judas," replied Saul in a cool, emphatic manner, "thou knowest 
that I am a man resolute and unscrupulous in all things that endangei 
me in the achievement of my designs. In thus wishing to effect thy 
death, I am not different from my former self. I hate thee not, Judas, 
but admire thee as a brave and serviceable man ; yet in the nature of 
things, it is fitting that I should seek thy life." 

"Monster! What have I done, that thou shouldst seek my life?" 
demanded Judas. "Have I betrayed thy secrets? Have I exposed 
thy hypocricy — thy villanies — thy unbounded and unscrupulous am- 
bition?" 

44 No, Judas, thou hast not as yet," returned Saul smiling; ""but as 
thou art possessed of my secrets, and as there are no further interests 
to bind thee to me, thou possibly may be induced to make known to 
the world what I am. Thou mayest possibly betray me as thou hast 
thy late master, Jesus. Under such apprehensions and dread, I could 
not pursue my course with equanimity, for I view thee as being in my 
way ; therefore, Judas, thou or I must die this night. Thou wishest to 
leave here for a distant country. Let it be so ; but it must be for the 
dark shores of death and eternal oblivion, where thy tongue will be 
forever at rest, and Saul will not have occasion to fear thee. Come 
then, Judas, let us decide this contest with our weapons ; for we are 
equally armed, and we understand each other." 

Saul then renewed his attack upon Judas, and the latter fought with 
equal vigour in his self defence. The glances of their eyes emitted a 
terrifying fury, and their sinews strained as they dealt the murderous 
blows and thrusts for the first few minutes, without material advantage 
on either side. Saul had parried and received the blows and thrusts of 
Judas with his mantle on his left arm, and Judas had thus far received 
no wounds. But at length, Saul pierced him in the shoulder, which 
caused Judas to retreat a pace; in doing so, he happened to stumble 
against the bag of money that had been thrown down just before, which 
caused him to stagger. Saul perceiving this, instantly rushed upon 
him before he couid recover his balance, and with a powerful thrust ho 
plunged his weapon into the breast of his adversary. Judas instantly 
fell to the ground, uttering a groan and dropping his dagger. Saul 
was about to repeat the blow, when Judas cried out appeal tag ;l y : 

"Saul, stay thy arm — there is no need of further strife: thou hast 
given me my death wound. I fain would say a few words to thee, 
while I have strength to do so." 

"Say on, brave Judas. Thy shrewd suggestions were always wel- 
come to me, and will be no less so now, T doubt not," replied Saul, as 
he threw down his weapon, crossed his arms Upon his breast, and 
Waited the further remarks of tin 4 dying man. 

Judas pressed one hand upon his breast, from which the blood was 
running fast, and managed to support himself with the othel 



316 THE TRUE HISTORY OF' 

recumbent upon the ground, and at length he observed, in a faint 
voice : 

"Saul, the shades of death will «soon draw over my eyes, therefore 
consider my last words as given in sincerity and truth. I do not regret 
my fate — considering what evil I have done, I deserve no better; but 
I did not think I should die by the hand of Saul, whom I have served 
so faithfully. Let me tell thee, that that dark conspiracy we planned 
and executed against that good man, Jesus, never met with my sincere 
approbation. It was thy coercive measures that forced me to do what 
I have done against him. I acted in conformity with thy wishes, under 
the promise of being a freeman. Now behold the reward thou givest 
me ! Saul, thou hast been terribly cruel and unjust to me, and possibly 
the time will come when there will be a retribution. When I served 
that good man, Jesus, I listened to his doctrines, and in spite of my 
will, they sank deeply within me. He frequently spoke of the True 
God and of a future state, with great wisdom and eloquence. I now 
believe that all his ideas were founded on truth and reason. Should 
the doctrines of this Jesus be true, as I firmly believe they are, there is 
some possibility, Saul, that we shall meet again. Should it prove so, 
Saul, then " 

On uttering the last word, the eyes of Judas closed, and he fell back 
a corpse. 

"Poor Judas!" ejaculated Saul, as he looked down upon the corpse. 
" Thou hast gone from this envious and treacherous world to the deep 
shades of death. Of all men of my acquaintance, thou hast proved 
worthy of my high estimation. Thy qualities were worthy of great 
standing, and a better fate than thou hast had. The loss of no one do 
I regret more than thee, though I have been thy murderer ! * * 

"How mysterious is my destiny, or the controlling power of my 
career in life ! How antagonistic are my actions with my desires in 
some respects ! — for the very man I admire most, I seem destined to 
destroy. Two men have fallen through me — the wise and virtuous 
Jesus, and my faithful servitor, Judas. Did their deaths proceed from 
any evil in me towards them ? No ; I admired them both, and could 
not feel evil towards them. Whence, then, comes this anomalous state 
of things, that I should destroy those I admire the most? Whence this 
universal strife and disposition to destroy our fellows? Is it an acquired 
disposition of man, subject to moral control, or does it proceed from 
inevitable necessity, inherent in the mysterious powers of nature, that 
men call Gods, and their wills as Fate? Ah! according to my worldly 
experience, I find that man's moral freedom is but a fiction! He 
knows not what is good or evil, neither can he refrain from doing what 
he does. As his existence is without his choice or control, so are his 
actions. He knows not the powers that control him, or what is his 
ultimate destiny. Like every thing else around him, he is a being of 
inevitable necessity. The man of to-day is but a link between the past 
and the future, in which position he is compelled to perform a part in 
the great chain of existence; which is destined to some great ultimate 
by the mysterious powers that control us. He lives and plays his part 
of to-day according to the influences produced by those who preceeded 



JESUS OF NAZARETH. 317 

him, and those who surround him ; then he passes from existence, and 
posterity assumes the results of his career, modifying and continuing 
the same from year to year, until the grand design of human destiny 
shall be achieved. How, then, can my actions be evil? Am I not like 
all other mortals— a creature of inevitable necessity, dependent upon 
my predecessors or those around me for my impulses to action, which 
are without my control? I do but enact a part in the great chain of 
existence, which are under the guiding influences of the Powers of 
Nature or the Gods. Jesus and Judas were the necessary preliminary 
actors to the great and noble end assigned to me to accomplish. Their 
careers of life furnish the materials and foundation, upon which the 
more important one of mine is to be established; it then becomes 
necessary that they should give place to me. After their toils and 
labors, I have removed them to the peaceful retreat of the grave, in 
order that I may enter upon my glorious career without obstruction. 
Saul ! Saul ! the glorious field of thy ambition is now open before thee ; 
the path is now free from obstruction; all circumstances, time and 
prospects are favourable ; the minds of men are prepared to receive thy 
bold and daring influences to control them to thy will. Rush forth, 
then, and embrace the opportunity to achieve thy long chershed design. 
It must be so. I was not born to pass this life like other men, amidst 
puling affections and trifling actions ; for I see within me the impress 
of grand and stupendous works pertaining to the social state of man, 
which give me impulse to action. Yes ; I must and will achieve the 
glorious objects, which the desires and impulses of my nature command 
me to do. If the results shall prove good, then all mankind will 
receive the benefit, and I shall be honored and praised through all 
posterity. And if my deeds prove an evil, then the responsibility will 
rest with the Gods, who create, control and dispose of the destiny of 
mortals." 

Saul having ended his soliloquy, he looked down upon the lifeless 
body of Judas, and after contemplating it for a while, he gathered it up 
and carried it into the Tombs of Jehoshaphat, where he secreted it. 
After some time he returned to the spot, when he re-possessed himself 
of the bag of money that he had given Judas, and then quietly left the 
scene of the murder and his impious resolve. 



318 THE TRUE HISTORY OP 



FINAL COMMUNICATION THIRTY-SIXTH. 

The Spirits having ended their communications through the media of 
Visions, Saul once more addresses me through my inward perceptive 
power of Clairaudience. 

"Friend Alexander, I congratulate you on the progress you have 
made towards the accomplishment of the task we have required of you. 
So far, you have achieved a great and important work for the benefit 
of your fellow man, of which posterity will be enabled to see the value, 
should the present age not appreciate it and do you j ustice. 

"From the facts we have furnished you, you have produced a com- 
prehensive history of that heinous tragedy, wherein I was the principal 
wicked actor. You have delineated things in a simple, natural, pleasing 
and truthful manner, suitable to the comprehension of the mass of 
mankind, and of that exciting nature as to command the perusal of it. 
It is a sad thing for me to reflect on, that mankind have been for so 
many ages wandering in error and delusion, concerning the character, 
history and doctrines of Jesus of Nazareth; all of which must be 
attributed to my wicked ambition as the original cause. But now, as 
I am enabled lo make an atonement to mankind for my past wicked- 
ness, I am in hopes that the evils of the past will be remedied in the 
present age, by giving to mankind an explanation of all their delusions, 
which they will be enabled to obtain when they peruse your book. 
When they do so, they will immediately perceive its truth, reason, 
consistency and conformity with the principles of nature. He that 
shall peruse and appreciate its truths, will give a test of his intellectual 
progress worthy of the age he lives in. 

" When the people shall read of the character, history and doctrines 
of Jesus, as given in your book, and then compare them with the same 
as stated in the book of absurdities, called the New Testament, they 
will not be long in discovering which of the two is the true one, and it 
will not be necessary to call in the aid of an imaginary hell to terrify 
them into the belief of it. In all other respects, the two books will 
present an equal contrast ; the one all truth, probability, simplicity and 
true nature, and the other all lies, fables, absurdities and mysticisms. 

44 Friend Alexander, I have now informed you of all that is necessary 
to render clear the True History of Jesus of Nazareth, which I hope 
through your exertions, will not fail in accomplishing the designs I 
have in view. You will now issue your book to the world, calling 
upon the Heads of the various Christian sects to read it and preach the 
same to the people, that they may emancipate themselves from the mental 
slavery and darkness, under which they have existed for so many cen- 
turies past, 

44 All that I have imparted to you has been concerning man's mun- 
dane affairs and mortal nature. I would like to inform you concerning 
our supernal world — our natures as Spirits, and the happy conditions 
of those who are exalted in mind and virtue ; but the reason why I do 



JESUS OP NAZARETH. 819 

not, is that I cannot. The nature of Spirits and their surroundings are 
quite different to what they are with mortal man. Man's ideas aro 
limited to his earthly life, therefore it is impossible for a man to receive 
impressions of things and a state of existence, which cannot be conceived 
by his earthly ideas. We Spirits have the power of impressing man's 
mind as far as his ideas can comprehend us, but we have not the power 
of creating ideas in him ; therefore, you may perceive that it is im- 
possible for the Spirits to communicate the facts of anything concerning 
their natures or the supernal world. 

"I must now conclude my address by informing you, that Judas 
joins me in expressing our thanks and gratitude for your services. 
We have it not in our power to reward you further than by the promise, 
that when we shall meet in the Spirit World, we will prove to you 
what we express. We now withdraw from you our guardian influence 
—hoping that you will pass the remainder of your days in harmony 
and peace, until death shall bring a change, when you will enter the 
Spirit World and obtain the reward of your labors. We now leave 
you. Farewell. " 



TUB END. 



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